Cruel Intentions
by CyKiESuMMerS
Summary: CH.9 UP! She's his teacher and he's her student. No matter how many angles you look at it could that ever be right? Scott's POV in ch. 9
1. Chapter 1

**A.N.: I have been toying around with the basic and typical plot lines seen in the X-Men stories and wanted to flip some things around like age and relationships. Scott is usually the older teacher figure but I wanted to put him in a role that he rarely sees. As a youth among a world of grownups, not vice-versa. Please give me reviews! Thank you.**

**Age is Just a Goddamn Number**

**-1-**

I am a working professional. I deal with my patients and students and business associates like the grown-up, mature, and professional woman that I am. Objectivity is essential to me in my field of work. But sometimes, there are these obstacles that may come out as distractions, and even years of med school, training, and various degrees has not prepared me for something like this. And that is carnage in every aspect but the sort I am inclined to deal with in medical practice and physical training or combat.

It happens every morning from Monday through Friday, at the start of class when I am settling down, trying to casually sit at my desk with my lesson plans, as if I am casually waiting for my week day students to file in accordingly to the time, casually as if I am not waiting for any specific student, because I treat them all fairly and objectively. Okay so maybe today I put on an extra whiff of perfume, which causes Logan to crinkle his nose due to his extra sensitive smell and look at me strangely, accusatory. Why so accusing? I am a woman after all and I do like to smell good for no reason other than my own.

I ignore how dithery I get and the expectant fast pulse of my heart beat in anticipation of something I won't get into. Every morning, this causes me to question my career choice and also makes me feel like the giggly and nervous school girl I am supposed to be teaching.

Okay, so it's two minutes to class time, and I'm looking at the clock entirely for my own teaching purposes. He usually comes in earliest at this time, always punctual and so polite in his coming ins. Then in he comes, usually alone but sometimes one of my dear younger girl students manages to snag him and come in on his arm, fawning idiotically over him. Don't get me wrong, I love all of my students dearly and equally and I, with a grad school education and being a perfectly intelligent older woman in a man's profession, will not get envious of my teenage students.

I like to keep it casual for work, I leave no lipstick marks on my coffee mug, I wear conservative knit sweaters and loose slacks and sensible shoes. Nothing fancy. Just today I thought it would be nice to put on some lipstick, perfume, and maybe let my hair down just this once. There is no other possible reason I would do this than for my own pleasure.

He comes in, so stoic of a face, such perfect posture for a young boy, broad and promising shoulders, and lean build. Of course, even his good taste in clothes like his usual shirts and pants do not distract me from the fact that I have seen this minor in less than that and have found it satisfying to the point of guilt. He sits near the front, and I get to stare at his working form without anyone getting too suspicious if I just pretend to be addressing the whole class in front of me. Oh gosh, how he glides into that chair, his ass is the finest and he is so sculpted and I am so getting arrested if I project these thoughts.

So what if I'm wearing my favorite sweater which happens to be red like his glasses and compliments his tan and chestnut hair so brilliantly. It's just an old sweater that I happen to like a lot. I should not be feeling this guilty. I have nothing to be ashamed of, as nothing is happening that is wrong. Except maybe… the dirty thoughts and fantasies I might indulge in.

Is it such a bad thing that I may have kept his papers after grading them for personal reasons? He writes like a seasoned lover, a charismatic writer. His usually lone and solemn demeanor in such a young kid is countered by the man that writes such great literature for his term papers. Maybe I hide his boyishly scrawled lined paper under my bed like dirty magazines, but who the devil cares or knows? Is it such a crime for a woman whose major was in literature, to admire a younger boy's work?

I have poetry reading in class or essay-reading and I select him to stand up in front of the class and read aloud for the class. I didn't even know I was 'dreamily' staring at him, slouched forward with my chin in my hands like a 'horny school girl' on my desk at him, until a thought popped me out of my reverie and I could hear Jubilee's current thoughts as well as Bobby's. Can they blame me? When he stands there in all his glory, reading aloud with that manly and yet naïve voice that is going to sound deep soon, about love sonnets?

They all seem to be catching on and I feel so judged in the mansion now, whereas before I was respected and considered boring to them, school marmish. Logan judges me a lot now, he teases and laughs, but I pick up on the jealous thoughts from him when regarding the kid he is supposed to not feel intimidated by. The kid I am not supposed to feel that way about either.

I can't help it; I can't help the way he makes me feel. I love the way he walks up to my desk like a man on a mission, to politely turn in an assignment or to make small talk, humoring me as the grown up. Sometimes in the middle of a leisurely class session, the younger girls will drag him into a petty debate or conversation to tease him and include him. Sometimes they bring him up the front as a witness and consult me for my opinion on gossip or anything else concerning their youth.

I never thought I would want to be like that again, to be one of those young giggling girls again. As they giggle over him, predictably touching him here and there with flirtatious gestures, I never thought I would want to go back to a time of absolute transparent stupidity again, but how I wish I could. Then, at least it would be legal for me to be able to touch him, and give him those suggestive looks without him thinking of me as a freak. Yet he is so oblivious to the attention and flirting, and goes along with it in oblivion.

Ororo even had to confront me about this, and we talk about my growing problem and obsession in the class room. They have become quite close to, as he is the only one who volunteered to take her botany course on weekends as extra credit. When I heard this, my immediate instinct was hurt pride and hidden jealousy but then I just had to be a good friend to Storm and offer my assistance in her class, witnessing how manly Scott can be around plants without meaning to. Whoever thought a young boy pulling out weeds and holding flowers could make it appear so rugged and sexy? Oh gosh, stop it brain, shut up Jean.

For such a quiet and indifferent kid, he causes quite a stir about him. I see him along the mansion's parts or in the class, getting back thumped by the boys who look up to him as a master of athletics and other boyish interests. The girls give him looks and talk about him nonstop as if he is the heartthrob of this place, even with so many good genes in mutants running around. Teachers love him, he is studious, smart, and serious.

I am wistful like a young girl again, wistful for some time to get to know him personally, be able to dig into his thoughts. Nobody has ever intrigued me so much before, maybe it's just a forbidden law of nature thing. Ororo gets to have a mentor relationship with him, he looks up to her as an advice-giver and expert on plants. Me? Who knows if he even sees me as anything else other than his English teacher, teammate on the battle field, and trainer? For such a young age, he is already striving. He is the new leader of the X-Men now, and has proven himself worthy of the position. Logan is not too pleased, which he blames on his insistence that he is protective of the kid, and does not want to put him in such a position.

Did I even mention how suffocating and tight my suit becomes when this gorgeous young boy saunters out of the locker rooms in his tight, defining uniform? This is torture and it is dangerous for someone to be as good-looking as he is. He does not notice the effect he has on women or girls, typically, and that is the best part. Perhaps this is what plays to my yearnings and fancies.

My favorite is when he plays pick up games of basket ball or some other sport in the courts with the boys, and they like to play shirtless. That body is like a Greek God's and there are so many things I want to do to it that would be considered rape.

Yesterday, we got a new addition to our staff and team. Surprisingly, she is another telepath like me and the Professor. She is a well-bred and rather prominent Elitist from Boston. She is several years younger than me, but her credentials are extraordinary. She is prestigious, shrewd, and worth many figures in the enterprising world. I expected someone more strict and business-like, but instead, I get stuck with guiding the playmate-looking mutant around the mansion whose pretentious and snooty air seems to drive away all females. I didn't mind that her only response to other people was a blank stare of condescending blue eyes and a crude smirk, until she happened to set her blue eyes on HIM.

Really? Is this happening? Is he not some exclusive and undiscovered secret that only I cherish? That was probably the first regard I had gotten from her since we met when she asked slyly, "Who, by Jove, is that fine young gentleman in the red sunglasses?" I backtracked and tried to respond without sounding suspicious and impure.

Afterwards, she ignored me more or less and struts over to him while the poor boy was busy trying to set up his new play station game system for him and Bobby's enjoyment. Never mind that he is a pretty boy who one should not even regard in that manner, for Emma Frost apparently has no propriety with rules anywhere, even if she is the holder of these rules as a teacher here.

I had to laugh as he cluelessly stared up at this stranger of a young woman, wearing a very form-fitting white garment. My glee did not last for long though, as usually mild-mannered and shy Scott stood up and offered to help her around the mansion, completely abandoning his cherished game.

As I get to know my co-worker, it is evident that she may be the type to just toy with other guys' feelings, and perhaps her flirtation with Scott is just a mindless whim that she doesn't even think of much. How wrong this assumption would prove to be…

What probably tore my heart even more though, was how nice he was being to her, nicer than his usually indifferent manner, and how boyish he seemed as he juvenilely courted this obviously older woman by goofing off and using adolescent boy antics of friendly flirting and naïve questions that seemed to flatter her and amuse her to no end. Those rich peals of laughter soon became infamous as only meant for Scott to hear, as nobody else ever saw her laugh like that.

Forget that I had recently heard rumors and gossip while admittedly eavesdropping in on students' chatter in their heads and out loud; that the stony faced Scott Summers had asked Kitty Pryde out after a while of math tutoring and class time bonding. I should have been more watchful of the younger girl who was rather adorable.

This young boy whom I had taught, never once gave an inkling of his more playful disposition, no matter how much we urged him to be like a kid. He took his role and responsibility as the youngest field leader very seriously and did not act like boys his age did. Now he was as playful as a puppy when Emma Frost wanted him to be playful. Other onlookers would have said it was cute of him and her, but I knew the truth and that her intentions were far from cute and that it was actually very sick.

A grown woman cannot look at a young boy so intensely like that, talk to him like that or treat him like that. She cannot just thrust her bust into him whenever she thought he needed help in class. Can she? What was the difference between her and me? A few years yes, her being at the advantage of 21 and me being 26 but still, if it's not okay for me to think that way about him, it shouldn't be for her either, to this 17 year old boy.

It's just not fair sometimes.

A.N.: _Reviews will be greatly appreciated and accounted for. :o)_


	2. Becoming a Man

**A.N.: R&R please! **

It soon became evident that fighting and training partners, Scott Summers and Betsy Braddock were distractions to each other, and found their sessions enjoyable and rigorous on an intimate scale. Betsy was two years his senior, but they maintained a close friendship and mutual relationship with private practices of martial arts and combat.

The lithe nineteen year old stretched her panther-thin body out before beginning her stance for kick boxing against her friend Scott. This was where her adrenaline rushed in and she sprang into action. As she saw her reflection gleaming in the young warrior's ruby visor, something exciting and primitive awoke within her. With a series of rapid moves and attacks, grunts, cries, and flashes of purple hair, the fight was over within the hour. After strenuous back and forth of defense and offense, both fighters often wore themselves out at this point.

Finally, Scott managed to get Betsy off her feet and pin her to the floor with her arm bent under him as he used his body weight to immobilize her. Both of them were gleaming with sweat and panting from the struggle. Scott closed the space between their heaving chests and panted, "Give up yet?" Betsy fought back a groan and gasped, "Never!" With an extreme effort of her muscles and body, she flipped over and soon had Scott flipped on his back, and she teasingly straddled him, pinning his wrists to the floor.

The residents of the mansion saw nothing platonic in the way Braddock looked at Scott, and the sexy way they fought, bodies perfectly opposed and clashing in the heat of passion and movement. As fighting buddies, the sexual tension was unbearable.

Still, Scott saw Betsy as his buddy and just that, he thought in black and white, or rather black and red, and even though he was often in close contact and often pressing tan skin against tan skin with the purple haired flexible ninja girl, he did not allow his bodily senses to affect their training.

After washing up and changing after their work out, Scott met Betsy and accompanied her to the top floor of the mansion to grab refreshments. He had his gym bag on one shoulder and a clean shirt on. Betsy had braided her long and wet purple hair to the side and stole Scott's X-Men baseball cap off his head and placed it on her own, backwards.

They walked amiably together and Betsy remarked, "Good moves today Slim, I can't wait to kick your ass again though." Between practices and working out, they never got further than their playful banter, friendly chit chat and flirting. Betsy, a cheeky British native, decided to push their friendship farther and offered, "You know, I hardly ever see you out of your trainers and uniform. How about some nice change of scenery and you and I hang out tonight in our formal wear? See how you like the view then. I don't only rock skin tight aerobics spandex you know, you should see me dressed up, love."

Not letting thoughts of what Betsy would look like out of her uniform affect his respect for his friend, Scott replied, "I'm sure you look ravishing in anything, Bets, and I bet Warren knows a thing or two about that. I'll take his word for it." Betsy snorted, frustrated at her ex boyfriend getting in the way of her to Scott.

Scott considered Angel a good friend, and they had their bro codes, which excluded Betsy as a romantic option for Scott, since his buddy had already been involved with her and that would only open up conflict.

The perk or rather curse of being an older adult in a mansion of gifted youngsters, was that sometimes you were invisible and ignored in their presence, and often learned interesting things if they forgot you were even there.

Jean, who was passing by the lounge where Betsy and Scott had settled down to eat fruit, happened to listen in on their banter. She frowned at the thought of Betsy, Scott's work out partner attempting to ask him out. She thought Betsy only went for older guys, like Jean's friend and colleague, Warren, who was 23 going on 24.

Later, as Scott settled down shyly next to his new girlfriend, Kitty, opting for a casual and cute night in watching Kitty's favorite chick flicks, he briefly let his mind wander to the strange and exhilarating sensation that his English teacher, Ms. Grey must have accidentally projected to him. These projections were quite frequent but Scott did not protest or say anything because he did not think the telepathic projections were any of his business.

As Kitty shyly nestled next to Scott, the contact of his hand brushing her smooth and hands caused a flash to rip through him, of the feeling that Ms. Grey accidentally projected to him. At the sight of his hand on her smooth skin, Scott felt the flash again intensified and blushed, as he had also blushed in class when Ms. Grey sent this signal to him while he took a test.

One would say that Kitty was a prude, but then again, she was rather young at the age of 16, but very advanced for her age, especially in mathematics. This was where Scott came in as her tutor and peer. She was naïve and that was what had attracted naïve Scott in the end, when he realized he might have a crush on this girl.

Kitty felt thrilled to be asked out by the older boy whom she had harbored a crush on ever since she set eyes on his good looking face and sculpted body. They were both rather new at this thing. Their romance did not sprout for a while, but Scott, who was not always social and also very guarded towards the opposite sex, found no harm in the docile blue eyed brunette girl who was too young to be in his class of Calculus. They began tutoring sessions after a time in class when Kitty had timidly asked Scott for help as he was probably the only one who cared and excelled in the class.

Always one for helping out, Scott did his best to help and made the math seem clearer and easier to understand when he went over it. They had many tentative tutoring sessions and it seemed like no matter how much closer they got or comfortable, Kitty still could not forget the awe of his bare body and how gorgeous and more mature he was than any other boy.

There were times when she broke across his barrier and managed to get him to laugh genuinely and adoringly at her and her clumsy but endearing behavior. Scott was never one for feelings and puppy love, but as his acquaintance with the younger girl grew into a friendship and a relationship, he felt a sneaking suspicion that she was someone he liked spending time with, and was rather pretty. After confirming these truths and suddenly reacting to her in her X-Men uniform in a DR routine, caused him to realize that he wanted to do something about pursuing this girl who had tickled his heart.

Scott remembered, painfully that day he had this epiphany. It had been in the DR when he unexpectedly and for the first time, visibly reacted to Kitty in her suit. His uniform pants suddenly seemed to be too restricting and confining. He fidgeted unlike the solid leader he was meant to be, and had to turn around from his team to hide his growing problem around Kitty. The older women, whom he used to only feel that way around, in awkward puberty, all picked up on his problem. Of course, with a team full of horny adolescent teens with raging hormones, this visible problem was a common one in the gym and during co-ed exercises, but Scott had been good at controlling his bodily functions as the young but able leader of them.

Ororo just worriedly shook her head and hid a smile. Jean blushed vividly and tried to not make it obvious that she was staring. Emma Frost simply smirked and made up a bullshit excuse on having him as the younger field leader, do physical demonstrations on her.

Then the weird things started happening and Scott was still dumbfounded by the fancy display his teacher Emma Frost had put on for him while he was heading to the boy's bath room in the boy's wing and passed by an ajar door where she happened to be changing. He had covered his eyes and embarrassedly started calling out, "I am so sorry Ms.F-." He was cut off by her peal of giggles meant only for him, and opened his eyes to confusedly see her smiling knowingly at him. This did not help Scott's adolescent problem and so he turned on his heels, sprinting in panic and confusion as the rich peals of taunting laughter faded away.

Then he had run straight into his teacher, Ms. Grey, who he had thought was hot when he first arrived at the mansion. She had her hair up in a red ponytail and her glasses on, and seemed so flustered when he ran into her, frantically saying, "Sorry Ms. Grey!"

Gosh, she loved it when he said Ms. Grey in that voice of his. Jean instinctively grabbed his arm, and stopped him from fleeing down the hallway. "Wait, Scott! Before you go, I just want to let you know I finished grading your essay and it was amazing. You're a really talented writer." Scott, who was now on friendly terms with Jean on account of having bonded with her for the years he stayed at the mansion, instantly, reprimanded his problem in her presence.

He smiled lopsidedly, a sheen of sweat the last residue of his now extinguished problem, and said, "Thank you, Ms. Grey, I would really like to ask for your advice on rhetoric soon before I start sending in personal statements. Is there a time I can come by after class for you?" Jean had been beside herself and tried to remain calm and responded to him nonchalantly that Friday after class would be the best for her and to call her Jean.

It had been a strange day for Scott and now he was reminded of the prickling sensation that Ms. Grey projected to him, and he grew uncomfortable in his pants as Kitty pressed against his side while they watched the movie. He hoped dearly that young Kitty would not notice, and stuffed a cushion on his lap, until his reaction subsided.

Too scared to move or brush against Kitty, he nearly jumped when Kitty snuggled against his shoulder. Now his attention to the movie was completely diverted as he stared sideways at the young girl cuddling him. Scott gulped, nerve racked to the point of a seizure. He was still shy around the resident girls.

Then the scariest thing happened and Kitty abruptly turned her face so that they were face to face, as her attention from the movie seemed to be diverted as well. Scott could have counted her long and thick eye lashes as they were cast down while she was looking at him. He wondered if this was the part where he should lean in and make his move or not. Before he could get his though process further, a howl interrupted their tense moment and both youngsters leapt away from each other.

Remy had a struggling body over his shoulder as he stomped up the stairs adjacent to the recreational room. Shrieks were howling, "LEMME GO YOU FILTHY SWAMP RAT! QUIT MAN HANDLING ME I'LL HAVE WOLVERINE CASTRATE YA! AHHHHH!"

Kitty put her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle and Scott jumped up and shouted, "Remy what the Hell are you doing? Put Rogue down now!"

Remy froze on the steps with Rogue squirming on his shoulder and paused to say, "Oui, I thinks ze lady has had much to drink, et Remy must eh, take la belle to her bedroom. You see?" Scott looked closer at Rogue who was still mumbling and crying out in anguish, and decided that yes she must be intoxicated.

Scott had no time to wonder why on earth she would be drinking and why Remy would be with her when she was, because he knew that the immediate precautions would be to get Rogue to her bed and avoid Logan.

He quickly ushered Remy upstairs with Rogue and made sure that Remy kept his hands to himself. Remy dumped Rogue rather unceremoniously on her bed and the first thing he did was to take her shoes off. Remy growled, "Sacre bleu, la fille has a large tolerance, she gave Remy a hard time. Kept asking if I sheet cards."

Scott huffed and quickly ran back down to his date once he had gotten Remy out of Rogue's room. He inwardly groaned as he approached to see Logan bent over on the couch talking intently and quietly to Kitty, while waving his fist around from which a single blade protruded. Jean was at Logan's side, casually sipping a cup of tea while waiting for him to be done with Kitty. She must have heard Scott's groan telepathically because she looked up from her cup at Scott who was standing in the shadows.

She quirked a brow and smiled at him coyly, regarding Logan with a twitch of her eye brow. Scott smiled back and stepped forward and cleared his throat. Logan jolted up and put his claw back into his knuckle and roughly patted Kitty's head. He stared straight at Scott and barked, "I was just giving Ms. Pryde a talk, if you do anything uncalled for to her, there will be consequences, got it Slim? Keep yer paws to yerself and be a good boy."

Scott gulped and managed a nod as Jean put her hand on Logan's shoulder and said, "Relax, Logan, the kids are fine, and Scott's responsible, let's not scare them on their first date, hm? Leave them alone; let them have a good time."

She looked supportively at Scott who gratefully grinned back. After the two adults left, Scott sighed and asked Kitty bluntly, "Do you want to get out of here with me? We can go anywhere you want." Kitty agreed, but insisted that Scott take her anywhere he wanted to.

Scott simply took her hand and led her out to the garden for a moon lit walk where they could be alone and away from interruptions from the prying X-Men. He did this all in good time because he heard some snickers and low whistles from the stairs where he caught a speared tail poking out and a pop of Jubilee's bubble gum.

Before heading back inside before Logan's curfew checks, Scott stopped in front of the bubbling fountain in front of the mansion. They both sat on the side of the fountain and looked at the pale reflection of the moon rippling in the water. They turned to each other at the same time and Scott muttered, "Sorry about tonight, it didn't exactly go as I had planned. I guess you have to expect that in a house full of nosy people." Seeing how abashed Scott was made Kitty smile.

She replied softly, "You and your plans. Forget about them, you have to take a break from planning everything out, tonight wasn't some battle plan, it was a casual date and you can't draw lines and blue print those. Cheer up, _slim."_

They shared a laugh at the reference to Logan and once it subsided again, they were met with an expectant silence. Scott mumbled, "I had a good time with you though, Kitty. You're…the coolest girl I know." The moon lit up her white smile and she touched his hand and said, "Thank you Scott. For tonight too, I like hanging out with you. I guess…goodnight then, we should head back." Scott swallowed and nodded, "Yeah, we should go, um bye then."

She then leaned forward and placed a light kiss on his lips. He was startled for a second, but then reached for her when she was about to pull back and kissed her hard.

Not expecting this, but nonetheless delighted, Kitty kissed back with a vigor and leaned into him, causing them to both lose their balance. Scott fell backwards into the fountain with a splash and Kitty on top of him. Still not breaking their kiss from the fall though, they continued to kiss in the shallow water.

Scott propped himself up in the water and held Kitty's face as she sat in front of him between his legs and they grappled in the water, passionately kissing one another's faces.

Kitty wrapped her arms around his dripping neck and ran her hands through his hair. Scott found his own hands and placed them timidly on her petite waist, then slid his arm around her back, wrapping her closer to him.

They rolled around in the water and only paused to breathe for air. Slightly shivering against Scott's wet chest, that had nothing to do with the cold or the water, Kitty nuzzled his neck, and his breath quickened as she lightly kissed the taut muscles straining his neck.

Scott frantically ran his hands up and down her back and pressed her against his urgency. Finding his voice, Scott managed to whisper, "Uh, K-Kitty, we should go." She was now sucking on his neck and nipped at the skin there before murmuring, "Do we have to?"

Before Scott could answer, they got their third interruption of the night. A popping and unsheathing of claws in the night air broke them apart and as Logan stormed towards them, Jean ran after him, calling out, "Logan! Where are you going! What are you doing?"

Logan approached the fountain and Scott sprang up and helped Kitty to her feet and they stepped out of the fountain. Jean stopped in her tracks and tried to make sense of the scene of the two dripping teens.

Logan growled and charged at Scott who was quick enough to dodge the mad man. Logan roared, "INSIDE, NOW!"

Scott stood, dripping and wet, feeling the coldness of his wet clothes clinging to his skin. Logan was yelling at him ferociously, waving his claws around dangerously as Jean tried to placate him and sound reasonable. Apparently, the two teens had gotten carried away and were out longer than they thought. When Logan went in for curfew checks, there were two empty bedrooms and a lot of explaining to do. The other kids came out and peeked at Scott and Kitty soaking wet and being yelled at by Logan. They were in their pajamas and hadn't expected such a scene so late.

The next day, the boys hounded Scott, asking for details and the girls giggled over Kitty who was wearing a giddy expression the whole day. Of course, the red and purple marks on Scott's neck did not go unnoticed, and he suffered teasing like no other. All his teachers had something to say or a look to give him at the marks.

Scott tried desperately not to let the naughty thoughts in his head distract him in class, he desperately tried to look anywhere except Ms. Frost as she sat sprawled out on her desk, reading absent-mindedly from a sex- ed book, while leaning back with her long smooth and bare legs hanging off her desk and her short skirt opening up a golden opportunity for the boys in the class.

He hunched over his desk and wrote notes that he did not fully understand, as he could not pay attention to what he was even writing. At one point in class, when he had absent mindedly stared at his teacher, she looked up from her book without stopping her dictation, and letting a platinum blonde curtain fall over one eye, she stared straight at him with one icy blue eye, a smirk twitching the corner of her lips as she read.

Scott bolted out of his seat, thankful when the time let out and class had ended. Before he could escape, his teacher called out, "Scott? Could I please have a word with you?"

Scott reluctantly retraced his steps as the other students filed out, leaving the two alone. "Yes, Ms. Frost?" She was still sitting on her desk, legs crossed now and beckoned Scott to her, and said dismissively, "Oh please, its Emma to you, I'm not that old." Scott gulped in reply.

Emma drawled, "Look, Scott, as a teacher, I have to be concerned for my students. Now, I am aware that the subject I am teaching right now may have a lot of correspondence with what you kids are dealing with now." Scott nodded and she continued, "I am also aware of what happens in this institute, and I just wanted to reach out and let you know you have my support and you can come to me anytime, with personal issues or anything you want to talk about. Now, you and Ms. Pryde are dating aren't you? You are both still too young, but when I heard of gossip that you may be sexually active, well, I had to let you know that in my area of expertise, I will be completely willing to give you my help. If you don't mind me asking though, why Kitty? I take it for her young age; she is also quite a prude. There are plenty of older women, who would be willing to make you a man."

Scott was now burning red, appalled, embarrassed, and ashamed. He stuttered, trying to catch his breath as his young teacher leaned forward, luring his eyes with her open shirt and swiveling her hips so that her long legs beckoned to him. Scott fumbled with his books and then rushed out, mumbling, "Ah, thanks, I have to go now, Ms. Frost!" He fled and found himself standing in front of Kitty's door. When she greeted him, he gave them no chance for exchanging words because he was instantly in the room and kissing her.

Jubilee walked in half an hour later and stepped over their discarded clothes and rolled her eyes, "Gosh, you guys just can't keep it in your pants can you? You'd have thunk that Logan trying to kill you would teach you something. Sheesh, horny kids these days." Scott, panting and dangling off the side of Kitty's bed without his shirt on, chucked a pillow at Jubilee as Kitty pulled the sheets to her chin and giggled.

When Jubilee departed, Scott sidled up to Kitty and kissed her on her pert nose. He said seriously while looking her in the eyes as she brushed through his hair with her hands. "Kitty, you know, just because we're going steady now, doesn't mean that what we have in the team and in combat, changes. I am not going to treat you any differently and allow that to get in the way." She nodded and answered, "I know, Scott, and I wasn't expecting it to be any other way. Nothing is in jeopardy. Although, I have heard some things that are kind of like, strange."

When asked to elaborate, Kitty sighed, "Well, it's just kind of like obvious that like Ms. Frost is like a total hoe and she so like wants you. Oh and Ms. Grey favors you, you're like her pet. Don't you think it's like weird? Ever since we started dating, Ms. Frost has been like docking me off points in class and like being especially bitchy and hard. She's always like been a bitch to me, she thinks I'm like, stupid, but now she's grading me unfairly." Scott looked worried and blushed, "Uh, well, I never noticed, and I don't think you have to worry about Ms. Frost, but if you say she is treating you unfairly, maybe you should confront her. I doubt it's because of us though, that makes no sense. I do believe you though if you say you're getting lower scores, you're smarter than half the girls in your class."

Kitty shrugged and said, "It's not like serious though, Ms. Frost is just flirtatious in general, I'm probably just like being paranoid. By the way, Alison Blaire totally has like a crush on you, and kept asking me if you like, had a leather fetish. Did you ever tell her you did?" Scott frowned, "Alison's my lab partner, but no, I don't really talk to her all that much now that I think of it. I wonder where that could have come from. You should hear what the guys keep saying in the locker rooms."

Kitty shoved him and laughed, "What do they say?" He shrugged and cocked a brow and said, "Just things I can't confirm or possibly know the answer to…yet."

This earned him another shove and a squeal.

**A.N.: I just wanted to play around with the Scitty romance, but it may be short-lived. Any pairings suggestions? This will eventually be a Jott of some sort, like in the movie how Jean is older than Scott. Thanks R &R please!**


	3. A Seduction in Two Acts

**A.N.: Earn a karma point and spread the love with reviews! Thanks :o)**

**A Seduction in Two Acts**

**-XXX-**

**Jean's POV:**

I am nervously sitting at my desk, after class is over and the last of my students are spilling out to start their weekend. I can't say why I'm so nervous; get a hold of yourself, Jean. The week has been hectic, I have been trying to loosen the load my students have and they are all pretty stressed and complain to me about Ms. Frost's teaching techniques and unfair grading and abundant work load of assignments.

The younger girls complain to me that they think it is not fair that she commands so much authority and strict meanness over them and acts like an authority much older than them, completely disregarding the fact that she is only a few years older than the seniors. Sounds like she's not very concerned with her popularity among the students or anyone else for that matter… Except for a certain team leader and teacher's pet.

Enough of that, I will not let my weird thoughts and fantasies and simple… lust for a teenage boy get to me. He is so young, it's strange and I don't know why I lust for him so badly. I have a reputation of being hard headed, reasonable, sensible, and perfectly prudent. It isn't like me to feel these things and think the way I have been for a forbidden student. He is so young! He is just a boy.

We have gotten close over the years and we talk frequently on a friendly basis which allows me to get to know him as more than just a student. He opens up to me when he seeks advice or comfort, he sees me as his teacher and friend. I cannot disrespect his hard-earned trust.

When I bumped into him the other day and he was in a hurry looking very flustered, as was I, because he was fresh out of the DR and looking delicious and sweat-slicked and hot. When I brushed by him, I caught a whiff of his thought process in his frantic state of mind. What I got was that just seconds before, he had been passing by innocently when Emma Fucking Frost had kindly exposed herself to him purposely, teasing him. The visual I got from him was enough to make me forget my little cougar crush, as Logan calls it, and clench my fists in anger and protectiveness.

I should have a word with Emma, she needs to be put in her place and understand that if she upholds authority here as a teacher, it is unacceptable for her to be exposing herself so lawlessly to the students.

Anyway, that all leads to how I am sitting here, nervously waiting for a boy far too young for me, my student. I see Miss Kitty Pryde leaving class with her pink backpack stuffed with books.

Then he comes in, always punctual, right after class lets out. He stops her at the door way on his way in as she is on her way out and tells her he will catch up with her later as he needs a word with me. He kisses her and she leaves.

They are a cute couple I guess. We all think it's cute, and as the older generation, it is rather adorable to see puppy love in these hallways and to see two of our resident mutants go through the pains of teenage courtship.

Poor Logan though, cannot get over being anal and protective of the kids here. It is a pretty big deal to all of us, since Scott is someone who is generally withdrawn and oblivious. Seems like Pryde has more cattiness in her than we thought. She certainly prides in having a boy like Scott.

I would too, if I were oh, maybe ten years younger. But I'm not, so we'll forget about it.

Staff room gossip is filled with the confidential knowledge of the younger residents who love to chatter away to us if we allow it. You get the updates between lunch breaks.

Everyone is thrilled that Scott is coming out of his shell since we all love him; everyone is thrilled except Emma Frost.

For such an intelligent and bold woman, she is pretty immature. Maybe it comes with having a body that defines all ages. She cannot flaunt it enough apparently, and no matter how many times we cite her about her dress code and apparel, she as always, acts like we don't exist. She is supposed to be a role model for children for Pete's sake! She cannot dress so inappropriately.

She seems to think she is above all rules except her own and that is what troubles me about her and Scott.

Not that I am threatened or jealous of course, it's not like she has a relationship with Scott like I do, but still, I am protective of my pupil and that is why I feel so.

Anyway, in the staff room, if anyone goads over the kids' relationships and mentions Kitty or Scott, she hones in and even though she does not acknowledge any of us, allows herself to join in on conversation with us.

It always goes something like, "Did I hear you say Kitty Pryde? Oh that girl is so poor in fashion tastes and so dull, you should read her research quotes. What I wonder is what a sharp boy like Scott Summers sees in her? I mean, even with my age, I can see that someone like him is quite a catch. What he needs is a real woman. Not some silly prepubescent blithering idiot. Unfortunately, there aren't many choices in this dreadful place. By the way, don't you think it is a distraction to the team leader to have a romance going on? We should really put an end to this."

Emma Frost has no idea or care to how transparent she sounds.

When Hank, who appreciates her for some reason, chides her and smartly reassures her that student affairs are unfathomable to us old folks, she merely smirks and reminds me of just how young she really is.

Although she tends to talk with an air like an older person, her looks and fascination with Scott and lingerie betray her.

She seems to think she intimidates me for some reason and I hate it. Just because I am another female telepath does not mean we have to compete.

It is just as worse when she lazily does not even try to hide her fascination with younger students and I pick up on her vivid imagination, which I admit makes me blush when I see Scott and can relate to her day dreams.

Still, if I try to mention it, she acts all posh and offended that I did not respect her thoughts and 'eaves dropped'.

Not to mention, whenever Scott is around, she is always pointing out my age and making me feel old.

The other day, she was practically all over him as he was washing her pearl white Mercedes coup for her, which she requested specially of him, using his car obsession as an advantage.

She draws him in with her luxury cars and watches him muscle over it with rags, while shirtless in the sun.

Afterwards, we all leisurely spent some time in the gardens, and Scott was shooting Frisbees out of the air while I sent them flying up as target practice with my telekinesis.

He became errant and distracted though, as Emma came out with a Long Island ice tea and a large sun hat, and draped herself over him.

She fussed over his visors, his accurate aim, and was touching his face and eyes. I might have accidentally sent a Frisbee flying their way.

I didn't even hit her with my TK, the Frisbee just whizzed by, but she took the opportunity to pretend to fall so conveniently so her legs were to Scott.

She cried out rather dramatically and pretended to be hurt. Scott, the ever helpful boy was immediately at her side, and abandoned our traditional target practice.

Scott then had to make such a fuss over her as she pretended to be vulnerable and acted like a little girl, clinging to him in his arms as he lifted her up and worried.

I apologized but pointed out that I had not even hit her to which she cruelly glared at me and then whined sweetly to Scott about her pain and also said, "Forgive her, Scott, it's really not all that bad. I will manage."

She then winced theatrically and Scott was conveniently holding her in his strong arms and I protested that she was over exaggerating. She then said pointedly, "Jean, even though you are nearing 30, that does not give you an excuse to be senile just yet. Although I forgive your bad aim and misdirection. It's understandable in your circumstances." I hate her. I hate her. I hate her.

I nearly gave her a piece of my mind if it weren't for sweet Scott's clueless face.

Upon her instructions, she really milked out her minor injury and now, for two weeks when the rest of us are in training, she is given an excuse and lounges in her room and also gives request to Scott to excuse himself from practices and tend to her since she 'needed' special attention and aid.

So now we are minus two team members and only God knows what that conniving bitch is doing to poor Scott while he takes care of her.

Now he is standing in front of me, hands in his jean pockets and how I wish I lived up to my namesake and could be the jean he is wearing. What.

How does this seventeen year old boy reduce me to feel and act like a teen again? I feel like a little girl around him and it is inappropriate.

I offer him a seat across from me at my desk and we have a nice discussion about future plans, what he wants, and how I could help him.

He admires a picture frame on my desk, it's me and my sister Sara, back in Connecticut.

We are wearing our matching Christmas knit sweaters in it, and I am several years younger in it.

I blush as Scott compliments us and jokes about 'good genes' and tells me I am attractive.

I tuck a strand of my hair behind my ears and lower my glasses, trying to stall time as Scott and I easily fall into conversation.

He even jokes, "You'll have to introduce me to your sister."

I laugh good-naturedly but think that there is no way.

Sara has written to me in letters that she thinks the 'guy with brown hair and red glasses' is cute in the X-Men photographs I send her.

I told her he was gay, she is visiting during winter break and I cannot risk it.

After a very nice talk, we both went out together to join the others in the dining hall for dinner.

Kitty had saved a seat next to her for Scott and Scott went to sit besides her and helped himself to her dessert. She slapped his hand away and my heart melted, and made me feel happy and sad at the same time, when I see happy couples.

Maybe I should take Logan up on that offer and get rid of my single status. I enjoy being single in the working world but seeing high school romance reminds me of the old times and being in high school. Relationships then were so dramatic yet so sweet.

I settled down in a spot by Ororo and one of my close students, St. John who is eating a potato. Literally a potato. I ask, "Is that baked or are you just eating it raw?" Pyro turns and smiles, "Not baked, but I am."

I scrunch my nose; pretend I didn't hear that and turn to talk to Ororo while I eat my dinner.

There's a startled giggle from the end of the table and I see Kitty flirting and wrestling something away from Scott. Lots of unnecessary touching too.

I should say something about PDA rules in this institute as well as table manners, which Scott has not lacked until tonight.

Emma Frost has sat across from Scott, and is all boobs and what appears to be white gauze wrapping her body.

Kitty is doing her best to avoid eye contact with Emma because, word is, that in a class today, Emma had caught her passing notes with Scott and consequently read some gushy romantic notes out loud in class to punish them.

There is a clatter as Scott drops his silverware and freezes in his chair for a second and his face blanches.

It only takes a second to realize what caused this sudden reaction because I see Emma Frost looking smug and staring sensually at Scott from across the table.

She seems to not notice anyone else in the room as her eyes are on him and she gives him the sultriest look possible that is so out of place at the dinner table with kids on either side.

Scott squirms a little and looks frantically around the table, to see if anyone noticed and to figure out what was happening.

By the way Emma leans forward on the table, staring straight at Scott and toying with her food, I can tell she is up to no good.

At first I think she is having some sort of telepathic effect on him but then I can tell that something physical is happening below the table.

Scott scoots back in his chair a bit but then thinks better of it as he cannot stand up anymore.

Kitty is obliviously chattering his ear off and trying to feed him mash. By the way Scott clutches on his glass of water for dear life, I can see that he is trembling.

Emma Frost apparently enjoys this and bites her lip and sends him a private look as if she is quieting her ecstasy.

She sighs woefully and pretends to ponder her healthy dessert of fresh picked cherries somebody had prepared a bowl of.

It doesn't take much imagination to be able to tell that besides her calm demeanor, her lower half is quite busy and active under the table.

Scott's expression is so pained I am shocked to see that it looks as if he is about to cry. The others are all leaving as dinner is pretty much over besides the late comers and dessert eaters.

Which now only consists of Scott, Kitty, Pyro (who is munching away on everything he can find), Emma,Ororo, and I.

Poor Scott nearly chokes on his food and I finally try to put an end to this. I want to do this as discreetly as possible as not to upset people so I send Emma a polite and telepathic push.

'Stop it!'

'Jean? What are you doing in my head and what are you talking about.'

She doesn't even look at me or seem in anyway distracted from Scott who is sitting nervously across from her.

'I know what you are doing to Scott. I would recommend that you stop it now before you get in further trouble for defying principles and rules here. Scott is a minor.'

'Oh, like your perfect little mind is so clean.'

'This is statutory rape.'

'Relax and butt out, it is not qualified as statutory rape, I haven't gone that far…yet.'

That is it; this woman is impossible and immature. I send her a mental jolt that actually causes her to abruptly sit up straight and stop what she is doing.

Scott is slouching in his seat now and looks slightly out of breath while Kitty is mindlessly making a fuss over him at the same time.

The whole effect is rather comedic, but I have no patience for comedy nor this ruthless young woman who has terrorized our school.

I try again; 'I am serious Emma, we can do this the easy way or the hard way and you can either leave this table unscathed or be humiliated.'

She gets the point and merely stands up slowly, giving Scott the ultimate, steamy display of her body as she gets up like how I imagine any decent stripper would.

She is all about smoldering eyes and hips now. Then she pointedly says, "Have a good night. Dinner was an orgasm." I can see Scott's Adam's apple move up and down his neck as he swallows.

A thought is projected to me of how nice it would be to lick that Adam's apple. I stare in disbelief as that slut sashays out the dining room.

She has no shame.

**-XXX-**

_Part II: The Seduction_

Concentration in class is impossible now.

I try to remember what Jean-_er,_ I mean Ms. Grey has taught me about mentally honing myself and blocking out telepathic intrusions, and also undesirable and distracting thoughts.

I _don't_ know what is going on and I have no intention of finding out.

I just want to be able to focus and do my work, but with a girl, I mean, young woman like Ms. Frost pretending to take on the role as a teacher, my will to learn and study is just as laughable.

Oh God, she is staring right at me now, what if she heard me. God, she must be so sick of hearing the perverted thoughts of juvenile boys like me. I don't want to ruin my marks in class and her opinion of me as a good student by immature handicaps.

Okay, okay, think…biology, no, wait, Kitty. I wonder what she's up to right now. As stupid as I sound, I actually can't wait for classes to end and to see her.

I like her hair and her smile and how adorable she is when she's doing her thing on the computer, with her big glasses on. I tell her she is the cutest nerd and she phases my shirt off. We have a nice routine set up.

What would I do in this house without Kitty? Hearing her voice makes my day. Sometimes the other girls can be annoying to be around, but not Kitty. I get kisses for buying and surprising her with anything pink and cute I thought reminded me of her. What more could a guy want?

She knows how lonely I get in bed at night sometimes, which is a pussy thing I know, and something no one else knows except maybe Ororo and Ms. Grey.

She also knows how much I try to maintain my leadership responsibilities and stick straight to the rules here, and knows that I can't let us sneak around at night or even get caught together in the same room during bedtimes.

She knows this and she gives me her cherished stuffed dragon, Lockheed, to sleep with at nights.

She says she wants me to have something of hers to sleep with if I can't sleep with the real thing.

In return though, I have to give her one of my shirts so she can use it as a pillowcase and I guess breathe in my scent?

I like the way we're progressing, and I can't have asked for a better girl.

I don't give a shit if the other guys give me shit for 'being whipped.' I blame their latent homosexual curiosities in the locker rooms when they joke about looking to see if I have balls and a willy still, after being 'whipped'.

Kitty is the best…Oh my God did Ms. Frost's bra strap really just slip off her shoulder? Is she purposely looking at me like that? This is horrible.

Okay, finally only a couple more minutes until I can leave.

….

This is the longest couple minutes of my life.

….

Please stop. No don't pout those frosty pink lips, oh my god, don't lick them. Please don't show me your tongue. I should really look away if I can't have the maturity to even pay attention to her lesson.

….

What a smokin' chick…

Bad Scott. Hmm… smokin'….like barbeque. I understand now why burgers and hot girls have always made perfect sense to me in commercials…

Oh god, no, stop thinking about your teacher on top of your future Lamborghini, slathering a meat patty over her face and body. Mmm…meat patty. I wonder what's for lunch. I'll see if Kitty's up for burgers. GOD, no, I meant…nevermind.

What do you know, class is over. Yes.

"Scott, darling, can I please see you at my desk before you leave?"

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

Bobby and Kurt give me snide looks and snicker as they exit. Fuck. Them.

"Yes, Ms. Frost what is it?" Most innocent grin I can muster. Did my voice sound suave and low or a lot squeakier than I'd intended?

Must be pretty fuckin' angelic 'cause now she's cupping my face in a nice gesture.

"-You really are such a nice and kind boy… You're sweeter than any man I've known."

Oh, no, is she going to start crying and pouring her heart out? I can't handle girls and tears, I buckle, like that.

Nope, Cyclops will not perish under a girl's tears today 'cause now she's beaming at me. Why is she so pleased with herself?

"-I have a confession to make, Scott. It makes me so sad to think that you'll hate me for this, and I'll be destroying the relationship we have, but, the guilt is unbearable…"

I reassure her that I could never hate her and also feel bad myself that she feels bad for whatever it is. She makes me feel very protective of her. "-but you have been a very bad boy, Scott, darling. And as your teacher, I will see to it that you will be punished."

I didn't do anything wrong!

I blubber to her like a little boy about how sorry I am about the naughty and involuntary thoughts I had about her in class and outside of class.

I admit and confess to things, thoughts, and deeds that I do not even recall ever doing or experiencing. She raises a brow and smirks.

"That is very touching, Scott. I wasn't talking about that, but it is nice to hear that you've been thinking of me that way… I can't imagine why! An old maid like me…"

I gape, is she joking? I ask her.

"But you're only a baby!"

She grins slyly and answers, "And this coming from a baby himself?"

How can I not think about her that way? I almost say this out loud, like the idiot I am, but unfortunately she picks up on my thoughts and thanks me for flattering her.

"The nature of why I'm speaking to you is about well, your crime of being naughty by being so damn sexy and charming…even for a little kid."

All my senses are halted. I feel a goofiness as I ponder at how she called me sexy… Really? Me? Sexy? I subtly puff up my chest and try to be more masculine and sexy for her. The burn was that she called me a little kid though, well, time to prove I wasn't. I could be a man for her and make her happy.

She picks up on that thought too and smiles gratefully and tells me she appreciates it and thinks I'm cute.

That's not good, cause then she thinks of me as a little kid.

She bends over so I can see down her shirt thingy and touches my neck lightly.

I swallow and it's like all reason is flown out the window and her pale eyes are looking at me like I'm the only guy here…

Well, I mean, I am, the only guy with her in the empty classroom, but that's not the point.

She looks closely into my face and tells me in a sotto voice, to trust her. I abide.

After all, she is my teacher, my elder, and therefore trustworthy.

She asks again if I trust her and I can only manage a nod this time, and swallow.

She smiles, good, she says. Then lowers my face towards hers.

I can't tell if I'm in heaven or hell. With a woman like her, it's hard to say.

She promises me that she will rock my world, and so far she has been too good to her word.

**-TBC…**

**A.N.: Review please! **


	4. Tempest of Temptation

**A.N.: Review please! **

**-XXX-**

**Tempest of Temptation**

I could sense my dear young Scott's turmoil through a strangely close bond we share through our years of friendship and mentorship.

He had been distant lately, and now that I could feel his distress, I wanted to do something to help him.

What led me to her classroom, I have no idea.

She must have heard me coming.

I opened the door, and let myself in to the classroom I refuse to step foot inside.

My heart raced, palpitating at the sight of my cherished student as he sat wearily back in a chair across from her desk.

His usually immaculately neat and outrageously good hair was messy and tousled. His collared shirt was unbuttoned at the top few buttons, and I could still see faint traces of frosty lipstick smudges on his tan skin, making the contrast of tan skin to light lipstick very stark.

He gasped as he saw me walk in and Emma Frost only quirked an eyebrow, as if questioning why exactly I was there.

As for the bitch herself, she was sitting smugly with her legs crossed and hands folded in front of her on her desk.

She carefully and subtly pushed a strand of her blonde hair out of her face, tidying up the messy hair that had fallen out of place.

I could tell by the flush of her skin and face that it was not from embarrassment, but from pleasure of some sort.

My entire body felt numb and I couldn't believe this, no, this didn't really happen. It's not happening. No, it's impossible. He wouldn't…she wouldn't really…

Scott's jaw dropped and he stammered, "Er, h-hi Ms. Grey!"

I squeaked in reply.

Emma huffed and said breathlessly, "Why, Jean, how gushingly glad I am that you decided to stop by. Needless to say, you're not exactly a common visitor here, and I know how much you like to snoop and stalk young students, but still, gushingly glad I am."

Okay, now here was my moment of triumph and righteousness, I was going to put this woman in her place and save the day.

If only…

I gaped and through sheer reflexes, turned on my heels, blushing madly and rushed out of the room, away from them.

The next day was strung with tension for me, with my secret knowledge of what goes on during private tutoring and counseling sessions after class in Emma Frost's room.

I observed Kitty in class, and she was still the pert girl she always is, and it seems as if Scott has recovered from his daze.

He is acting more of a couple than ever with Kitty and they giggle tauntingly during the one class they have together and I have even caught them kissing obliviously beneath the staircases. Logan is usually lurking around the corner, ready to tell Scott off.

During one of my day classes, I overheard Dazzler and Rahne speculating about mysterious marks on Ms. Frost and how she was overdressed today, at least for her.

To confirm suspicions, I glanced at Emma during lunch as she sat alone, as usual, with the exception of Hank.

Indeed, she was rather covered up, wearing a white cashmere turtleneck sweater.

I sighed and tried to reassure myself. Its fine, she's probably just cold…although that has never been a reason for her to cover herself up. Nothing happened; she doesn't have anything to hide. Obviously.

Of course, my hope didn't last for long as I was changing to my uniform in the girl's locker room and Emma Frost, who never can resist showing off her body for much, stripped of her turtleneck and slacks, thus revealing much more than just her body.

I stifled a gasp as she lifted the sweater over her head and I saw the incriminating evidence that shattered everything I knew about Scott Summers, and my hope and certainty that he had been an innocent victim in this, perhaps overtaken and viciously raped by the crazy Emma Frost.

I looked away aghast and disappointed. Looks like young Scott has more in him than we thought, and wasn't perhaps some innocent boy who just what…sat there?

Oh Scott, what have you done?

This exchange was reciprocal huh? 

Emma seems proud of the flurry of red marks ambushing a trail around and down her neck…and lower. It is all over her pure and flawless skin. The mark of lips, a mouth, teeth having made their mark.

First I feel shock and then the biting curiosity of tears at the corners of my eyes. I can feel Emma watching me now as she slips on her white uniform.

Is she waiting for some reaction? What exactly? How am I supposed to be reacting? How am I reacting?

Before she can utter a snide word, the younger girls coming in to suit up distract us.

There is giggling and chattering as the girls take out their uniforms and start to undress.

Alison's neck craning to sneak peeks at Ms. Frost unclad again, does not go unnoticed. The other girls whisper as they confirm the truths of why their teacher decided to put on more clothes than usual today.

Kitty herself blushes at the little red bruises blemishing the older woman's skin and I can hear her mentally chastising herself as she removes her shirt. She is also laughing to herself and poking fun at Emma, wondering that even past youth, adults can get hickeys.

Emma, always open with her sexuality, purrs to the girls, "Ladies, keep staring and your next exam paper will be less than average. Naughty thoughts are not always endearing either."

The girls turned away and Alison muttered under her breath, "Bitch."

Suddenly my day seems tiresome as does this routine of being an X-Man.

As we all troop out in our respective uniforms, I grow tired of the giggles and woeful sighs at the girls seeing Scott in his own uniform, already out and waiting to lead.

The poor guy is only seventeen and already he has the burden of men twice his age and even more temptations in his rocky path.

As we fall into positions and routines, Kitty exchanges a look with Scott as he directs her softly to her own position.

When Emma Frost stares piercingly at him, he just avoids her gaze and nonchalantly continues his instructions.

Rogue catches Emma's intense stare at Scott and glares at her, protective of her friend Kitty.

The whole DR session is just a whole mess and there is too much going on in all of our heads.

As I sit at my desk to grade papers, Bobby Drake comes to sweet talk me about an overdue paper he is to turn in.

I smile wryly, "Nice try, Robert, but I have to be fair. Here's what, how about you turn in some extra credit by the end of this week and maybe we can work something out?"

His face falls at the proposition, but he mutters that he'll think about it.

As he exits, I can hear him loudly thinking, 'If it were dear little Scott Summers, asking, I'd have more than just a perfect score.'

I huff indignantly to myself after he leaves my classroom. Do people really think that of me? Am I any better than Emma Frost?

I hone in on Logan lurking around the corner of the hallway, about to come to my classroom.

I can already read his head when he enters and I hold up a hand, closing my eyes exasperatedly, "Please, if this is about Scott Summers, don't even say it."

Logan opens his mouth, then closes it again and grumbles.

I shake my head, "No, I don't think he's interested in Rogue, although if you want the truth, please don't hurt anyone. Yes. Rogue is attracted to Summers, but I wouldn't count on her to go very far with her little attraction. Don't worry Logan, you worry too much."

Logan grins, "Ah, great, thanks Red, you know I don't like to be expressive. It's a relief when you just pull it all outta me and answer my questions without me asking 'em. You really think Summers is harmless? I don't know why, but the kid's quite a lady killer these days. He's grown a lot, huh?"

Harmless? I think about the little bruises on Emma Frost's skin and wonder.

Emma Frost has been in a considerably good mood lately, even for her, she has been generously nice and absent from us.

When Logan leaves too, I expect to grade my papers in peace now, but a whimpering outside my class window draws my attention.

I smile as I see Scott petting and stroking a large brown dog. Of course, after I think about it, I know that it is another one of my students, Rahne in her mutation of dog form.

She is falling into his hand as he strokes her and closes her eyes and whimpers softly. Sometimes, I can't tell if the girl relates more to a dog or a human. Or if she conveniently acts the dog to earn caresses from an unsuspecting Summers.

My heart stops though, when I see a woman clad in all white approach and scatter Rahne away, as she sits next to Scott, who stiffens up and merely watches Rahne run with her tail between her legs.

I can't hear exactly what she says, but she scoots too close to him and he is highly uncomfortable.

Anger bristles my nerves now and before I know it, Emma Frost is under a mysterious branch that has snapped down on her from a tree above.

I stare for a moment, and then hastily return my gaze to the papers in front of me, not daring to look back out the window again, playing no part in this.

I can hear her cries and hisses of pain, cursing rather vulgarly in an aristocratic way.

Scott's voice is uncertain and helpful though and soon the voices fade away, cuing that they are gone and he is tending to her somewhere indoors now.

I wonder if they suspect me at all.

**A.N.: Review, dudes! Next up: Scott has a heart to heart with his teacher Ms. Grey to talk about his conflicted feelings, doing the right thing, and his overwhelming guilt on some graphic subject matters.**


	5. Much Ado About Nothing

Supabec: Thanks for your great review! Heh I used to be a JOTT fan like HARD CORE but she pissed me off in the movies with Logan. and with Duncan in X-Men Evo. BUt I still have some faith, while I think Scott should be shared by all the x-women, Jean really does only belong to Scott, which is okay since she dies I guess haha. But you'll see (SPOILER ALERT) more of the JOTT that goes on later...

Anonymous reviewer: Thanks for reviewing! I love Scitty too, and I like to think that the rivalry between Kitty and Emma is partially caused by tensions of Kitty crushing on Scott...ahhh but I will do more stories about that conflict later, for now though, know that the Scitty is not over...You will see more Scitty fluff later! This chapter is sort of just a teaser and me figuring out who Scott belongs with in this story!

Read on and review! Some twists and surprises.

Chapter 5

Much Ado About Nothing

* * *

Thin inky red lines dragging across these crinkly sheets of lined paper. Does Jamie know what the uses of a folder or binder are? He could at least know to not turn in papers that have food stains and wrinkles all over them. But then again, this is the boy who just crams his papers or notes into his backpack without looking as soon as the bell rings.

I need to consult with Hank if it's biased to dock points on penmanship and overall presentation of papers.

Before moving on to the next paper, my red pen has run out of ink from the corrections scrawled all over poor James' home work assignment.

Ducking my head underneath the wooden tabletop, I pull a drawer out and rummage for red pens. I know I had a stash somewhere.

Three hollow knocks on wood interrupt my search.

"Ms. Grey..."

Bam. Ow. My head sounds hollow in my ears as I abruptly pop back up but fail and my head hits the bottom of my table.

Trying not to cringe and ignoring the tears about to water around my eyes, I bite a bottom lip, rub my head staunchly through my hair and squint at my student who has just come in.

The ever chivalrous Scott Summers rushes forward, his manly square hands held up as if to comfort me, "Holy crap, Ms. Grey are you okay? Sorry about that!"

His right hand is automatically rested on my shoulder and the other, resting warmly against my scalp as if soothing the stinging spot on my head.

It's an initial reaction though and as he realizes what he's doing, he backs off, lowers his hands and smiles apologetically.

I shake it off, breathing to calm down and appear calm. "Yes, Scott, what is it? I'm fine don't worry, do you need something? Sit."

I hate how matronly I sound but then I surrender, how else should I sound to him? My student?

Scott scratches his head adorably, ruffling the thick, glossy head of caramel hair that would be any mother's pride and joy.

Unfortunately he's lost his, which is such a shame. If I had a son like him, I'd want to stick around and watch him grow...

Oh ew, that was so...motherly of me to even think...

He fumbles with his words, which strikes me as a strange habit he has adopted since a youth struggling to fit in or scavenging on the streets. However, now as he sits before me like he often has in the past to converse with me of talk about academic matters, the habit is inappropriate and daunting on such a dashing young man whose lips are sensually eloquent, whose body is perfection and whose hair is always crisp and naturally perfect. No! Bad Jean, stop! Getting carried away...But how can you not get lost in those looks?

Dammit, I'm better than this, I've got willpower and common sense. Pay attention.

Finally, my student, manages, "I...think I need to talk...to you."

I nod importantly, "Why of course, Scott, you know you can talk to me about anything. I'm here for you afterall, as the staff should be. What's going on?"

Scott is one of the only students who utilizes my purpose as a staff member to talk and council him. The other students wouldn't dream of considering me as a conversation partner or trusted confidante. The lines between youth and adulthood to them is definite and should not be crossed. I remember being that young and never wanting to talk to my parents or teachers for personal matters or support.

You grow weary though, as you grow up, of proving independence, stubbornly holding back and seeing the adults as the misunderstanding enemies.

You grow tired of doing things alone, and realize it's not so bad to ask for help, or to even just talk about real things.

Scott has already grown and matured far beyond his years in some way and has no time for trivial matters of the heart. Which is what makes him a great leader and someday a great man. Although he already acts like more than half the man any of the immature loser men I've met so far.

My feelings for him...my little affliction...they're just motherly instincts, it's all psychological I'm merely protective and defensive of my first student really, there was a time when it was just us and he was a 15 year old street kid, dangerously good-looking, slim, dark, and brooding. I was 24 struggling with all-nighters and studying for grad school.

He started out as an angry little punk with temper tantrums that cost the walls of the mansion and craters in the courtyard, or dismembered fingers on Logan which eventually grew back.

His hair had been longer then, straight and beautiful like an arch angel's, and those chunkier glasses of the time's style blocked the beauty of his thin face with the burgeoning jawline.

I was just a grad student, making ends meet, and being paid by Charles to use my spare time to coach and teach the kid. These feelings didn't come then, did they?

We had a rough year, getting along, making him pay attention to and respect me. But finally he broke down and I was invited to look inside the beautiful mind of this intricate mutant boy whose maturity was budding as well.

And regardless of the age gap, that was when we were the closest, when it was just us two stragglers starting out at Xavier's mansion. Our discussions were heightened beyond student-tutor relationships and he became charming and witty suddenly, and overnight he tried to overcompensate for his youth and still slim size, tried to humor manhood for me and grow up faster than life allowed.

During those all nighters, he would keep me company or try to distract me, dancing around my desk goofily, stealing my books and pencils off my desk when I wasn't looking, or bringing me fresh coffee and staying awake because we shared something in common during those later hours. We both didn't like being alone.

Sometimes I wish it was still like that, just us two struggling to figure out where we would be headed, but the progress and innovation Xavier has developed since then have paid off and our team is growing. Scott is promoted to team leader and I am something of the sort.

But that was long ago, and now our relationship has grown a bit more stifled and formal, as more new people come streaming in and the classroom sizes grow and I am officially a teacher with a degree or two.

With Scott now figuring out his new mentality, his new body, he has no time for trying to cheer me up or act familiar. And I am older than that now I don't have the same younger worries and concerns as I used to so I don't need his boyish jokes to make me laugh.

Scott looked me squarely in the eyes through his shades and mumbled, "It's just...girl problems I guess? I dunno, , all this stuff, girls and all that it's all so new to me and I have no freakin' idea what to do. You-you're a girl...right?"

I had to laugh at that one. Yet, he looked so confused and frustrated, but I have to put my selfishness away and help him with his girl problems. And yeah Scott. I am or was a girl...That doesn't change around you.

I tried my best to look sincere. "What's troubling you Scott? Are things okay with Kitty?"

He sagged his shoulders, "No, Kitty-Kitty's great, she always is. It's just...it's me. I-I think I have to break up with her."

My heart tugged a little to see how distraught he was, his voice broke a little and he seemed so reluctant. I probed, "Why? Did something happen? You don't seem too sure about that Scott."

He looked up at me, "Well. I'm not. For the first time I...I feel like this. I don't have much experience with girls and Kitty...Kitty's perfect. I don't wanna ruin anything with her, I thought we'd just take it slow and all and I want to be careful, I can't mess this up, she's too good and understands me like the way you used to when it was just us. She doesn't have much experience with guys either and I don't want to mess this up I don't want to be stupid with her, but I'm in too deep."

My breath caught at his allusion of his feelings for Kitty to me.

I urged him forward with a concerned look.

He breathed out and continued, "I'm not sure if I should be telling you any of this, it might jeopardize careers and stuff or whatever, but I have no clue what to do with her. I...I feel like...I think...I l-love her!"

Oh Scott. You don't even know what that means yet.

Forget the facade, I could see he was struggling with shame. He is too good of a person. I lowered my head to peer up into his face and reached forward, putting my hand on his hand. "Scott... Does this have to do with...Ms. Frost?"

With the mention of the name, Scott withdrew his hand off my desk and snapped his head back up.

He muttered brokenly, "Telepaths... I know there is right and wrong but right now I don't know what's what and I want to be with Kitty I do. But...Ms. Frost...I mean, she's...she is a great woman, you know? But there are things...she makes me want to do. Things beyond my control. And...in the end...I'm not good enough for Kitty, I shouldn't be with her, I don't deserve her. She is all I want!"

My heart beat faster, I could feel adrenaline and anger mixing in my blood like a potent chemical reaction.

That home-wrecking whore! Why does she have to meddle with my student? Why does she have to meddle with innocent young teenage couples like it's her damn business? Does she see what she's doing and enjoy it? What kind of fascination and inferiority complex must she have to want to mess with a girl like Kitty?

I said seriously, "Scott, telepaths are capable of mental minipulation and mind tricks. Is Ms. Frost making you do and say things you don't want to? This is serious and can come with serious consequences. No matter what you think, it's not okay. You can tell me."

Scott looks flustered and says, "Oh, no! No, not like that. I don't mean to get her in trouble too, she doesn't do anything like that, she's not actually making me do anything, she's not to blame. It's...it's these feelings and intense desires I get that make me feel so ashamed...But around her, I can't help it, just talking to her, being with her...makes me want to do things I shouldn't want...But it's my own fault, if I had the strength I'd ignore it. I wouldn't even think that way about my teacher!"

I snort, "Scott, she's 21, a barely legal girl with hardly any degree, just her own privileged entitlement in doing whatever she wants. She's hardly what I'd call a teacher. You do know it's wrong for teachers to...manipulate relationships with students, right?"

Scott shakes his head, "Please, you can't say anything yet, I don't want anyone to get hurt or lose jobs because of me."

My goodness, he is protecting her!

In my flare of injustice, a button telekinetically popped and burst off of my blouse.

The distraction caused Scott to just stare at where the button had flown off and gape even more confusedly.

I tried to brush it off, and leaned down at the same time that Scott had, to pick up the wayward button.

Our fingers fumbled over each other and Scott hesitated, then drew back suddenly, letting me pick my button up.

I couldn't repress the red hot flush spreading under my skin, at the brief contact and all previous thoughts had flown out of my head with my button.

I briefly caught a mixed memory of the weird kind present in bizarre dreams and for some reason, saw myself lying in a field of red poppies.

What?

* * *

Although Emma Frost did not like to linger around or be in the company of the other X-Men, her presence graced the living room where the other members were leisurely gathered for entertainment from the T.V., which Emma hardly watched. The other kids and staff members all knew she was only there because Scott Summers was.

He was ignorant of her at the moment, sitting companionably next to his good friend Betsy, who was handling his play station controller in a race car game as he watched her compete with Kurt for the finish line.

Betsy was chewing hard on Jubilee's gum to the side of her cheek, eyes wide and glued on the screen, fingers scrabbling frantically over the controller.

Scott tried his best to annoy her, poking her hair and leaning in to inspect. He teased, "Your blond roots are growing in. It looks so weird."

Indeed, her paler blonde streaks were rooting in deeply, giving her hair a strange half purpley half blonde appearance.

Betsy whipped her long hair across his face and without taking her eyes off the game, remarked, "Stop checking me out Summers, your ex-girlfriend might phase my heart out." But everyone could tell she was enjoying it by the smirk that had settled onto her game face.

As always, Psylocke knew how to strike a nerve with the stoic Scott and she was not sensative to his face falling at the recent heartbreak.

Scott shrugged it off as best he could and in revenge, tackled Betsy down on the couch, using his shoulders and throwing his arms around her, pushing her side into the cushions, her hair flying up, and the controller barely in her reach, with outstretched arms. He lunged his body above hers, scrambling to grab the controller in her hand and she screamed out, "NO! NO! SO CLOSE! WARREN DO SOMETHING! HE's YOUR FRIEND! KURT YOU BASTARD!"

Scott muffled into her blonde-purple hair, as he fought against her to seize the controller from her hand which was reaching out of the struggled. "Kurt quick! Side swipe her car and take the championship! This lady's going down!"

Kurt was furiously working his fingers on the controller, tongue sticking out to the side and leaning forward as if urging his car past Betsy's. Betsy's race car was swerving erratically on the screen, as two different sets of hands fought to control it.

Warren who was standing off to the side, leaning against the wall, sneered emphatically, "Such children..."

Usually Betsy was sensitive about her young age, and especially of the older ex boyfriend, Warren's approval, but he would not ruin her mood today, she didn't care that she was younger or that he was pretentious of her youth. She was having unadulterated fun with her younger friends.

Emma too, did not seem pleased by the fooling around, which was strange as she looked a bit...pissed off. The staff members around her noticed that she was not smiling smugly or appearing vain and pompous as always like she was in the upper hand... Usually they assumed she liked to hang around Scott to tease him, to torture him, so she never showed emotions other than snide contentment and haughtiness. Today however, she seemed to be losing her upper hand and her composure had fallen, leaving her looking irritated and bothered...And she rarely was bothered by anything at all.

Hank who was reading a book, ignored her and Logan and Storm watched on bemusedly at the youngsters joking around.

While Jean was the older woman Scott could look to for emotional help, Betsy was his close friend who could make be touchy feely with him without his usual reserved manner and stiffness at touch. Mainly since their bodies were so in tune with one another and he was used to being very physical with her in the training room. Through fighting and combat, Scott found comfort in touch.

Betsy treasured this bodily trust and used it to her advantage as much as she could, cuddling him and fighting him whenever she could or both at the same time.

Maybe like how two brothers would play. Except Betsy was not his brother, and she was a very attractive girl gifted in the martial arts, something he was gifted in too, and something he considered a hot perk in a girl.

Not that he'd think of Betsy that way.

Finally, Scott wrestled the controller out of the psychic's grip and maneuvered her car so that it blew up.

Betsy sat up with her hair all over the place and a crazed look on her face. She landed a punch with a smack to Scott's chest and pushed him down to the side, climbing back on him and pulling his shorter hair, to which he cried out and screamed mercy.

Then, wiggling a flip flop off her foot, Betsy shifted positions and raised her leg straight out so her foot with the metallic purple pedicure was wiggling in his face, causing a frenzy of reflections over his ruby glasses.

She yelled out, "Kiss my feet!"

Scott struggled, straining his neck, to turn his face away and screamed out, "NO!"

She grinned wickedly, "Better than kissing my arse, which I know you want to do, Summers."

Scott screamed out louder, "NO I DON'T!"

She insistently stuck her toes in his face, "KISS THEM!"

Finally with a sigh, Scott grimaced and then pursed his serious and brooding lips, going in for a fast peck to Betsy's graceful foot.

When his lips lightly brushed her delicate toes to quickly remove them, she shoved her foot against his lips, mushing them, so that her foot was pressing against his mouth in what was like...a french kiss between him and her toes.

In a fit of indignity, Scott grabbed both her feet and threw her up in the air, flipping her body over on the couch and ramming Rahne off of it, onto the floor.

He held her knees against his torso firmly with both his hands and made her look up at him.

The entire room was roaring with laughter, seeing the British ninja girl completely own and serve the grim and seriously stiff leader boy.

He had been more irritable lately due to unmentioned heartbreak, and it was nice to see him not be so uptight and serious.

He glared at her, "I'll get you back for that!"

Psyclocke stuck a tongue out and boasted, "No you won't. I'm too fast for you."

Then, rotating her hips, she pulled her legs out of his grasp and in a ninja like fashion, vaulted her body over the back of the couch and sprinted off, barefoot, and towards the patio doors, outside, and Scott quickly jumped over the couch in pursuit.

Emma rolled her eyes and left the room as well.

* * *

Review you lovely readers! Seriously! Let me know what you really think!


	6. Snow Cone

**teaser. I wanted to add more to the Betsy/Scott tension here. And then some fluff for the JOTT fans.**

**Supabec: Haha I agree, Emma is pretty evil. especially in this story. Also, shout out to the JOTTness! Thanks for reviewing, hope you like this chapter :D**

**Snow Cone**

* * *

His heart pumping with each thudding footstep, Scott ran as fast as he could after the agile mutant whose long purple hair was trailing behind her, almost in reach, teasing as he wanted to reach out and grab it, hold it.

But she seemed to always be one step ahead of him, speeding up with her slim form leaning forward, using weight to propel forward.

Finally, Scott who had built up adrenaline and acceleration, kicked the earth underneath his sneakers harder and faster, and with a laugh, lunged forward and smoothly tackled the girl, throwing his arms out forward and around her.

They went down together in one motion and she grunted at the impact.

Wriggling underneath the lean boy on top of her, Betsy used her abdominal muscles to strain her body upwards and push him so that he landed on his back and she was the victor on top

Winding an arm back, she clenched her hands in a fist and smiled cheekily, "Now shall I kill you now Summers or do you want to kiss both my feet?"

As he writhed under her, Betsy firmly reaffirmed her position by grinding down on his body hard, keeping him on his back.

Her cheeky smile turned sly and she said softly without lowering her wound up fist, "You're not trying very hard to fight out of this one, now are you? Can it be that Cyclops enjoys being held captive?"

Scott's brows furrowed furiously but his mouth pouted and he wrestled his arm out of her straddling and quirked an eyebrow over his sunglasses, "I dare you to punch me Bets, you wouldn't."

She narrowed her darkened eyes and smiled cockily, "Or would I, luv?"

The sharp fist blurred in a split second as it sped forward, locked on its target.

With just as fast a movement, a larger hand blocked the smaller fist, and she socked his palm which was defending his face.

His warm fingers closed over her fist and clenched over the knuckles, stopping it in its bullet-like speed.

Betsy lowered her upper body, but arched her neck so that her face was lifted and she was looking down at Scott with lowered eyes.

Her half purple, half blonde hair was twisted around her neck, hanging over her left shoulder and grazing his ear.

Her bent elbow was next to her lowered head, fist still clenched in Scott's hand.

She raised her other hand timidly and brought it to his forehead, clearing his brown hair out of the way.

Then, she placed her free hand over his own free hand and guided it over her left thigh.

Cyclops choked out, "You win."

Looking into his ruby glasses, Betsy muttered, "And yet somehow I don't care right now, luv."

Shaded by a couple of trees and bushes of forest clearing of Xavier's great back yard, the two were deathly still.

"Kitty."

Betsy took a moment to react, then blurted, "What?"

Scott seemed just as shocked from what came out of his own mouth.

He shifted so that he was propped up on his elbows, and Psylocke immediately rolled off of him and stood up in a dignified way like a cat.

She stared at her friend for a brief second, then whispered, "Go, go get her."

Scott looked up pleadingly at the British ninja supermodel. To no avail. Her face had shut off.

Her faded over-sized coral pink hoodie, an old red one of his, was unzipped and hanging off her shoulder, British skin exposed to American sun. Her gray tank top had risen in their hustle, rolled up slightly to expose tanned hip bones.

Scott slowly got up, straightened his knees and stared at her bare feet on the grass.

He looked to her one last time, hopefully, but she did not return his gaze, and so he loped off, running.

* * *

By the time I had finished eating supper, Alison Blaire and a few other girls had finished consoling Kitty Pryde, who was huddled in the living room, a perky brunette pony tail on her head.

Her little face however, was not so perky as usual, tears were running down her pert nose, her large gray blue eyes watery and reflective.

My heart reached out, and I reminded myself to see to her sometime when she was alone.

A fluffy cheetah print blanket was wrapped around her, and a bag of hot cheetohs lay abandoned on the carpeted floor.

The girls who had just wrapped up the comforting words and support, suddenly hushed and a commotion seemed to break the forlorn scene.

I looked up from my crossword puzzle, and first spotted the blush creep up on Kitty's cheeks, and then Scott Summers panting and staring at her, having just closed the patio doors, he seemed like he had just rushed in.

The girls looked down respectively and Alison tried to glare at him, but somehow her eyes turned out to be more hopeful and inviting.

I immersed myself in my puzzle, yet I was also waiting in the suspense with the teenage girls, wondering what the next controversial move would be.

From years of knowing Scott, studying him as an angry adolescent with a complex psychology, I could tell he was struggling to find the right gestures, words, and also that his heart was thumping.

I leaned forward slightly, in my chair, which creaked annoyingly, giving me away, but none seemed to notice.

My pencil tip was resting on my bottom lip lightly, and I urged him mentally, to do the right thing.

Whether he felt or heard me or not, I could not discern.

Poor unassuming Kitty.

Finally, in the moment of truth, Scott moved towards her, and then snatched her thin wrist from underneath the blanket and pulled, causing her to stand and walk with him as he continued on his way, out of the living room, leaving me and the other girls stunned.

The next day, after having filled up various test tubes and labeling acidic properties, I locked up the doors of the underground lab in the institute and walked down the stainless steel hallway, finding some assurance in the clicks of my heels in the otherwise empty and lonesome corridor.

My white lab coat swished about my quads and I idly cast my face to the side, and then paused.

My footsteps stopped as well.

I could see through bullet proof windows that a lone, lanky figure was blasting away at a shapeless form, pummeling with no lament.

The DR stimulation was turned on high, and I hadn't heard thanks to Charles' installations of soundproof walls.

I watched and dropped my shoulders, shaking my head slightly.

Finding the emergency exit door, I unlocked the latch after decoding the security alarms and stepped in, just missing a flying metal limb.

I stepped in, careful not to step on any splatters of diesel and covered my tan skirt and maroon blouse with my lab coat.

Flashes of red lit up the vast arena, and I felt a tug of fear and thrill at how much power and destruction a single being could produce.

Carefully feeling the steel walls with my fingers, I found a switch and turned it up, lighting the room and powering off the stimulation.

The dying electronic whir of engines and machines shutting off and moaning, accompanied the heaving breathing of a bowed figure, shoulder blades ripping through a bare back, tan and glossed with sweat.

The being whose physical and mutant power proved monstrous, sank on all floors, both hands splayed out in front of him, his wet brown hair hanging hopelessly and dripping on unfeeling metal tiles.

I approached, picking up the sounds of my heels echoing in the room, and placed a hand gently on the slick skin taut over his back.

It was hot to the touch, and my hands, having spent hours pouring glass tubes in an air-conditioned lab, must have been cool to feel.

I bet down, squatting next to him and stroked the slippery skin, smoothing it.

A sigh and guttural groan escaped the bowed head and he looked up, expressionless steel visor covering his eyes.

From what I know, all this could have been the equivalent of crying.

I continued to stroke his back, which seemed to soothe him and his breathing grew more even.

Warm and raw emotions could be sensed and all I saw was that he wanted a hug. A hug. To be held.

It didn't matter who. So I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck and brought my student close to me, embracing his stiff and sweating form.

I tucked his damp head under my chin and closed my eyes, breathing out, "Shh."

His thoughts lay still and I could tell I had quieted the rage inside, the hurt, the self-loathing, and pain.

After several minutes, he finally breathed out hotly against my chest,warm air pushing out of his lungs and through my shirt. "Ms. Grey, your clothes..."

I shook my head, knowing he could feel my chin moving side to side on his hot head, mussing the sweat-slicked hair. "Scott would you like to get a snow cone? My treat."

I could feel steam rising off his heated body, and a smile, forming on hot lips against my chest.

He was 16 again, the eve of his Sweet 16 which I had been more enthusiastic about than he. I was 24, not quite 25 yet. I waited excitedly, having baked a cake myself, quite proud of the neat frosting I had whipped up, cream cheese frosting, his favorite, and could barely contain myself when I heard the gates creak and later, his familiar footsteps dragging inside.

Coming through the kitchen, his face knit with worry and sullen bitterness, appeared and I cried out, "There's the almost-birthday boy!"

He stared at me through his thick ruby lenses and then limply dropped his heavy backpack to the floor, and then shook his head, shaking the long brown hair away from his eyes.

He asked thickly, "What's the occasion?"

I did not let his demeanor deter my excitement, having been used to his mood swings and habitual crankiness.

I held up a sticky whisk, with a bowl of batter tucked under my other arm, my large wooly sweater rolled up at the sleeves.

He brushed past me and ignored it, not even eager to lick the batter off when I let him. Something was wrong. I gave him a look and he avoided it, slumping down at the kitchen table, resting his head on his arms.

I set the bowl of batter down on the table in front of him and went to his side, bending down slightly and resting a hand on his back. He wore a long sleeved white t-shirt and I noticed a speck of blood on it. I massaged the back of his neck like I did to help him sleep when he needed therapy at night for his nightmares.

Tugging gently, I got him to look up at me, and expected his gaunt angelic face closely, then whispering, "Close them." I lifted his glasses up on his forehead, and he understandingly closed his eyes.

My heart cried out and I could not help repress a sad murmur when I saw the dark red and black bruise raised on the skin where his right eye was, a deep gash set in where some bully's fist had pounded.

I held his face in both my hands, and could feel his gratefulness pouring from him as my cool thumbs brushed over his eyelids, where his beautiful tarantula-legs-like lashes stuck out.

In a fit of compassion, I pressed my lips softly against the black eye and hugged his head close to my chest, as I stood over his seated form.

The gangly boy did not stir, yet he allowed me to hold him.

After withdrawing the appropriate items from the medicine cabinet, I rubbed his eye tenderly with ointment and dressed it before setting his shades back down on the bridge of his perfect nose.

Still holding the sides of his face in my hands, I looked down into his eyes and furrowed my brows, saying, "You did the right thing by not fighting back Scott, you are a much stronger man than any of those insolent little boys at school."

He spoke for the first time that night, "I wanted to. I wanted to open my eyes so bad and obliterate those fuckers. I hate them, I hate them all, Jean."

I pressed my lips firmly together and sighed, he had not said it, but I could sense that he was already reprimanding himself, thinking he must have been just as bad as them for even saying these things.

His voice had cracked but whether it was from puberty or holding back a sob, I could not tell.

I could tell however, that Scott being Scott, stubborn, pain-tolerant and serious Scott, did not want to talk about this any longer, did not want my sympathy.

So I grabbed the bowl of batter and stuck a finger in, swiping a glob of batter and putting it in my mouth, exaggeratedly savoring it, trying to get his mood to lighten, and his attention on the delicious frosting. I dipped my finger in again and held it up, contemplating it, saying, "Mmm, Scott you don't know what you're missing out on. I made this cake for some brat's birthday tomorrow and he doesn't even want it, you have to taste this frosting though it's great. Too bad I'll have to throw away the cake out, triple layer chocolate, his favorite."

Before I could dip my frosting covered finger back into my mouth to suck the sugar off, he impulsively grabbed my wrist and firmly brought it over to his own sullen mouth and stuck the tip of my index finger into it and slowly allowed me to withdraw it, sliding the frosting off between his soft and warm lips.

I get the chills now that I think back to that. How a 16 year old's impulsive behavior could set me off like that. He moved his mouth around a bit, considering the taste as the frosting melted on his tongue, and he nodded agreeably, eyebrows quirked and then he gave me the verdict. "Not bad, I bet this brat wouldn't pass on the whole cake now that he's sampled the frosting, which is pretty amendable."

I tilted my head to the side, my hair had been tied back into a messy pony tail as it is now, and my bangs shifted to the side with my flyaway hair, and I smiled close-lipped, "But the cake is for his birthday tomorrow. A very important birthday. How about ice cream instead?"

His face fell, and I quickly reproached, "Shaved ice?" He wiped his longer straight hair back on his head and shrugged. I moved in for the kill and looked directly at him, "Snow cones?"

A wide white smile split on his bronze face and he shrugged again, and voiced, "How about my treat? You get the cake next time."

I mirrored his smile and laughed, stretching my arm out straight, meeting his hand with mine and pulled him up to full height.

That was when I noticed how much he had grown from when I had first met him, and he was as tall as me, which was pretty strange to me at the time. I was used to seeing him as a scared and scrawny boy.

At the snow cone truck parked on the street corner where an old theater still played unheard of matinees, Scott came back to me, where I was seated on a low brick wall, bundled up with a scarf and he chivalrously handed me a lime snow cone.

"Cherry for the lady, and lime for me." Before I could gently correct him, he bit into the top of the red snow ball and then frowned, chewing and melting the granulated ice between his teeth.

I nudged his hand with mine and gave him his green one as he handed me the red one. It used to fascinate him when this tradition of snow cones when one or both of us were upset had begun, that I loved cherry-flavored anything, red food when he avoided the one color he could not tell apart the most.

Slim grumpily ate his lime cone and I nudged his foot with my toes and said, "Hey, cheer up birthday boy. The world's not so bad when you see through rose-colored glasses."

He clenched the snow cone in his hand and mumbled, "Save your English, French or whatever literature for someone else, I can't even get a freaking snow cone right."

It was my turn to be angry. I stood up to his height and looked him in the face, then with brute force, took his hands in mine and took a gigantic bite out of his lime snow cone, and crunched the flavored ice defiantly, keeping my eyes trained into his glasses.

His expression did not change, but I found his eyes and he leaned forward slightly, so slightly that only I could have noticed. He was about to speak, parting his lips but I cut in and whispered, "Let's go home, Slim. What do you say."

He nodded cooperatively and we walked back to the mansion side by side, eating our snow cones in crunchy silence.

Now as I stood up in my brown leather pumps in the DR, holding out a hand for him to grab to stand up as well, he unfolded his body and stood taller than me by a good 5 inches.

I easily found his eyes through those opaque ruby lenses, something I had not been able to do for a while now, and he nodded, sweat streaming down his bronze face, trembling and biting down on whatever emotion was bothering him this time.

I could not help but reach out like we were still as close as we had been when we were younger, different people, and slicked his shorter brown hair back, lightly brushing his shining face.

We exited the darkening Danger Room together, and the dismembered metal limbs scattered on the DR floor did not escape me.


	7. Tit for Tat

**A.N.: okay, BIIIIIIIIiiiiIIIIG SHOUT-OUT to Soul93, hah when I checked my ff today and i saw the reviews for this one shot up to 10 I was like NO WAY! So exciting! and your reviews made me smile so hard when I was reading them, hah I have never really been noted for humor in my ff's! Wow thank you Soul 93, you really know how to make this writer and Cyclops Enthusiast feel good. I can't believe what amazing feedback you gave me! That made me immediately want to finish a document I had going for the next chapter, and now here it is! Hah and thank you I completely agree with you about people making Jean a Logan-obsessed brat and Scott being the stiffy way too much, which does not do their awesome characters justice! I feel like writing Jean this way makes me like her more again cause I used to be a huge JOTT fan before she got all nutty with Logan and Phoenix powers, and I am now an Emma/Scott fan with Scitty on the side for fun, but I have been missing the old JOTT lately and writing Jean this way as the relatable, smart and sensible girl who loves Scott makes it easier. (I blame the movies for ruining JOTT for me and in general have boycotted them because Cyclops isn't in them & Jean just makesout with Logan a lot GROSS) I like Scott in his teen years as imperfect and unbalanced, I mean, how can you be okay after all that stuff happening to you as a kid? & he is allowed to be a stupid boy for once lol, which, on a side note, is kind of why I like Emma's way with him cause she's so ridiculous and flirty and in spite of her appearance, flawed and outcast, letting him be that way too. I hope you enjoy this one, and once again thank you!**

**Supabec- Hehe hey Supabec, it's good to hear from you again, as always your reviews are very much appreciated and used. I'm glad I got you to like Scitty a lil, they're cute. I like em in X-Men Evo world together. Thanks for reviewing! Yeah this fic Emma is gonna be a bit nastier than I usually write her and I can see now why she is so easy to hate! Haha but still, I love her and Scott in comic arcs nowadays. But here you go this update is faster than the last time I just hope it satisfies you! Be prepared for some crazy plot twists an cliffhangers *SPOILERS* hah just kidding, it's not that crazy. Hope you likie! Let me know if you do or don't! I'm open to all of it you guys all have great input! And I'm interested in knowing what pairings you would like to see, just out of curiosity and maybe for inspiration.**

**TheWatcher019- :D Thanks a lot for the generous compliment! Amazing is a pretty big and flattering word! I don't deserve it! Thanks for the encouragement, hope you like this one too :)**

**R&R!**

* * *

**Tit for Tat**

**~7~**

My car's headlights illuminate a small radius of the mansion's long driveway, making its way towards the facility garage and parking spaces. Scott sullenly slumps in the passenger seat, staring out the blank black window.

A slow whir escapes the engine when I shut if off and smiling sideways at the emotionally and physically drained kid next to me, I take the crushed empty paper cone from his hands to throw away.

Quietly entering the den which is empty at this time of night, I set my coat down over the couch, then follow Scott upstairs to the bedroom wings.

"Good night Scott." I give my pupil a reassuring smile again as I walk past his bedroom door which he is now about to disappear through as I am on my way to my own on the other side of the hallway.

He is about to turn to me to say goodnight when his hand freezes on the doorknob and the unmistakable sound of faint girlish giggling escapes from down the hall around the corner. A manly, low grumble followed through the walls.

I lock eyes on his form, head bent over as if listening carefully, while very still, his shower-dampened hair hanging off his forehead.

He then straightens up, squares his shoulders and turns sharply, facing the pair coming up the hallway towards us.

A new foreign exchange student, by the name of Piotr, accompanied by Kitty, halted respectfully and nodded amiably at Scott, whose grim face with its tightened jaw showed no acknowledgement.

Kitty looked everywhere but directly at her ex-boyfriend. The tension in the air was alive and buzzing like electron molecules flying thickly in the air. Negative.

Scott gruffly voiced, "It's nearly past curfew hours...where are you headed off to?"

Piotr jerked his head on a thick veined neck towards his bedroom door and softly and politely responded, "Ovf to my rum to show Katya my photogravs frum Vrussia."

After a painful moment of silence, Scott interrogates in a monotone, "And where did you just come from?"

Piotr replied without skipping a beat, "Katya vas giving me a tour ov thez institute."

Kitty was furiously wringing at the hem of her shirt and refused to look at either of the guys now.

Scott cocked his head at Kitty, "You shouldn't be together in the boy's dormitory right now, it's getting late and it's against school guidelines, you'd better be going to your bed now."

Kitty briefly flashed Scott a hurt and furious look, eyes glaring plainly for him to see.

Piotr hesitated then cut in, extending a large forearm out in front of the thin girl, "I zon' zhink Katya vants to speek vith you vright now. It'd be better iv you didn' speek to hur."

A vein in Scott's neck flexed, and his fingers curled in towards his palms. He growled out slowly in between clenched teeth, "And how would you know what is better for Ms. Pryde? You just got here and barely know the rules and policies of this institution."

I revoked quickly, "Scott!"

He did not bother to turn to me, his eyes still trained on his target. "Both of you go back to your separate bedrooms, and expect a referral from Ororo or Logan tomorrow first thing in the morning for going against school policies and committing curfew violations and coed boundary offenses."

Kitty hissed out, "You can't tell us what to do Scott! We're not doing anything like wrong or out of line! Quit being such a huge jerk. Piotr's new anyway, cut him some slack, he should like get to know his new peers too."

I urged Scott to come back towards me, "Come on Scott, it's okay, I'm saying it is, leave them alone tonight and go to sleep, you had a tough training session..."

At Kitty's insistence, Scott turned his attention to her and conveyed her with the air of someone unfamiliar and cold. "I didn't know you were always such an enthusiastic welcome committee and tour guide."

Piotr stepped in front of Kitty to block her from view and said, "I zaid she doesn' zeem to vant talk to you...vWe vill go on vith our plans... Katya does not need your control, don' you have enouv ladies anyway? Zat Betsy Braddock doesn' seem like just a frien', an' our Ethics instructoor seems more zan frien'ly towards you... You have no businez in Katya's affairs anymore, stay oot."

At the mention of his friend Betsy and the low blow at Emma Frost, Scott's fists quivered for a second. Then in a rapid instant, he pounded Piotr's Russian nose with a fist.

It all happened so fast and before Scott's fist had rebounded and was about to land a second punch, Piotr became Collosus, his body covered from head to toe in metal plates. I reaffirmed the meaning of the metal limbs left behind after Scott's DR stimulation earlier.

The sickening solid bang and a loud crack after his fist had landed, had Scott on his knees, clutching his blood-covered fist, staggering backyards away from the source of impact.

"Scott!" Kitty and I cried out alarmingly.

The still metal Piotr, hurried forward and bent down, heavy chrome hands holding Scott's shaking shoulders worriedly.

Brightly bleeding arm locked against his chest, Scott lurched forward on his heels and with a continuous and rushing force, tackled Colossus as far as he could down the hall, throwing his body weight against the dense torso of the metal mutant.

After skidding to a halt, with Colossus toppled on his back and Scott on top, he quickly sat up on Colossus and was ready to whip off his glasses, glaring directly at Piotr's eyes.

He flew back though before he could, and froze hunched over in mid air, as I concentrated on keeping his strong, agile and struggling body in the air, using one hand. With my other hand, I motioned at Piotr, causing him to slide backwards with telekinetic force, frozen in a lock jawed, stiff position.

A lock of red hair curled off my forehead between my eyes and I huffed out, "Okay, that's it, bed time for everybody."

I nodded a head at Kitty who looked on the verge of hysterical and I ordered, "See Piotr to his room, now please."

Without a moment's hesitation, Kitty did as told and hurrying past us, she glanced quickly at Scott before grabbing onto Piotr's massive and slowly corroding into flesh arm, ushering him towards his room in the boy's wing.

My hand was trembling, from the telekinetic contact with Scott who was trembling under the force.

After I made sure Kitty and Piotr were safely in Piotr's room, I released Scott, whose chest suddenly heaved and caved in as he let out the fury and air pent up in him.

I sharply grabbed his arm and marched him to the private confines of my bedroom in the staff wing, sitting him down squarely on my bed while I paced the floor across from him, seething.

I was hurling telepathic scoldings at him , '_How do you expect to explain attacking a new student, completely unprovoked?! Do you really think that helps you out in Kitty's eyes? You're just proving what a little boy your emotions make you by putting up such a childish display! What are you trying to prove Scott? If you can't accept it's over at least go about winning her back or keeping your distance in a dignified manner!'_

I stopped in my tracks and put my fingers between my eyebrows, closing my eyes and breathing in deeply.

I could feel the blank void of Scott's mind, that hollow feeling when he's feeling any sort of sorrow or anguish, that he is so accustomed to pushing out or covering up in a blank static hole.

I turned to him slowly and without having to hear from him, I continued out loud in a softer tone, "Scott...I'm sorry. I know things haven't been fair to you, and I know, trust me, I know you more than you can imagine, and I understand. Just...open up if it helps, let me help you. We all care for you, even Kitty, but she's just as hurt if not more than you, give her her time and space to forgive you, you know she wants to."

It was barely noticeable, but Scott nodded, his face down, sniffing almost inaudibly.

My brows let go of the tension and I lightly held up his wrist, transfixed by the gushing blood covering his forearm, dripping down.

He jerked his head up quickly, bangs flying up at the sound of four light knocks on my door. I did not bother to look, but pointed behind me, telekinetically opening the door and letting in a flow of first aid kit materials that I had summoned with my mind from the downstairs medical lab.

A few rolls of bandages, medicine, and a cleverly placed splint later, Scott's hand was wrapped up tightly, immobile in the cast-like bindings on his knuckles. He had shattered much of his pinkie knuckle on Piotr's metal shell, but that would have to be examined further in the morning when Hank had the X-ray scanner and other equipment set up. With a medical student's eye, I saw that for now, the little fixer up would do for the night.

He refused pain killers, face betraying no pain, but I subtly turned off the pain sensors in his brain for the time-being to ease the damage. Scott is usually so valorous and moral that I felt a little guilty at betraying him and manipulating his brain without permission.

But I hated to see him in any kind of pain, no matter how much of a little ass he was being. He deserved to be an ass of all people, but usually held his own.

I excused him from about 3 weeks of DR exercises and team training, much to his reluctance. I guess it could be taken as punishment or a blessing in medical absence.

Sensing that he did not want to be alone tonight, I sighed and held the side of his face, fingers hooked under his ear, "Do you want to stay up a bit and watch old movies with me?"

Scott nodded slightly in my hand and I couldn't resist the urge to embrace the poor guy.

With the black and white pictures flickering across the t.v. screen as some movie on an old-timey channel plays as white noise, Scott and I hang out companionably on my bed, he has kicked his sneaks off and is stretched out next to me, shoving Pirate's Booty in his mouth and throwing some so they catch in my tangled auburn hair. I shoot a couple back at him with bullet-like projection using my TK.

After a few moments of silent munching and the credits for the third film of the marathon roll, I ask cautiously, "Feeling better?"

I'm slumped back against the headboard with my hands resting on my tummy, and funnily enough I don't care that my hair is all pushed up against the headboard or that I look sloppy and comfortable in my sweat pants, it's almost like the old times we used to share when it was just us, and I feel like a kid again with him.

Scott seriously thinks for a moment, furrowing his brow, but then with a lighter lopsided grin, jerks his head toward me and nods, "Oh yeah, definitely way better."

He then adds quietly in a name he hasn't called me since before the other students and team members arrived, "Thanks, Jean."

Oh god, the sentimental loser in me is brimming with tears at the eyes and I squeeze out a happy smile at him with the dam in my eyes threatening to burst. I place my hand well meaningfully on his hands and we share a tender moment, as he looks at me with an expression I can't read for once.

I swipe the corner of my eyes quickly and commanded, "Alright, tough love now. Vent. I know you need to, stop locking everything up inside, and tell mama bird what's going on."

Scott laughs and shrugs as we begin to take apart his love life. A couple handfuls of Pirate's Booty later and we came to this-

"Well...Kitty was the first and only proper and healthy relationship I thought I would have with a girl. I liked that about her so much, that our relationship could be as normal as it could be in our situations and my life. She's younger, innocent, and so sweet, she made me feel good like I was taking care of her and being responsible and in her own way she was easy to be around for me. But I guess I was lying to myself, I'll never have a healthy relationship with a woman and I'll never have normal feelings for one... Just messed up ones. I guess by now you know the nature of my relationship with Ms. Frost"

I could tell he had a hard time going about and saying something so tacit and unspoken and shameful and looked to me with some pleading relief, knowing I knew all with my telepathy and whatnot. In some ways that helped me understand Scott more than anyone could possibly know and that's what he appreciated about me as a friend and adviser, that I did not have to get the words which were difficult for him to say out of him, but I just knew.

I nodded, subtly so he would go on with his flow and not hesitate.

He sighed deeply, regretfully, "Well there you have it, proof that no normal girl would want damaged goods of a screwball like me. Even when I was with Kitty, it was turning into a lie, with pressures from Ms. Frost affecting the genuine bond we used to share. It just became a lie that I was desperate to hold onto, I had to be with Kitty to deny these strange afflictions for Ms. Frost and to pretend like everything was going to be fine. Ms. Frost...she's like the woman to the girl I want in all the dimensions of the female species in my head. Kitty fulfills the standards, what I expect of a girl with no experience, the good girl next door guys always want, but Ms. Frost was the opposite, she's dangerous and honestly, she scares the living hell out of me,and she's the temptress, there's something innocent about her I want to find out more about if its even there but she hides it with her adult femininity and I think she hides it for a reason and that's what makes me the only person who can really see her and understand what she's about even if I'm not even sure I like her. I just don't know what to think. But my few experiences with these girls are like pieces of fleeting relationships I'm trying to put together to become what I really want from a woman, but I know what I ultimately want is so wrong, so bad, so shameful, and I hate that my feelings will never be pure no matter how much I wish they would be. I'm just screwing up and hurting people I care about, and I should probably just never lose control like that again."

I leaned against him and analyzed, "Well, don't be so hard on yourself Scott, you're a better person than you give yourself credit for. I don't know boys like you who have such high values, heck, men even don't have those virtues and principles like you do. So your desired 'prefect' woman can't be all that perverse of a thought, you're allowed to fantasize and reach for your ideal person, you know. Maybe the reason your relationships are so all over the place is because you don't go into them thinking of what you want, you almost do it for others. So tell me a little about your apparently 'sick' fantasy woman."

Scott gave me a pained look and said, "It's not her that's sick, my ideal partner, my perfect woman is just that she's perfect. She can't do any wrong and she would look down on a kid like me. She's amazing and the definition of beautiful, you know, like inside and out and she would never even CONSIDER me. It's my longing for her that's so freakin' sick, I shouldn't want her because shes out of my league and it just wouldn't make sense and it would be impossible but I feel so selfish still wanting her when I can't and I feel sick because it would be so wrong of me..."

I chuckled, "You talk like you already have someone in mind and you're already putting yourself down before you even tried to find and get such a person."

He looked at me, strained, "I shouldn't even be saying all this, it's stupid of me."

I put a finger to his lips to hush him, giving my sternest look, "Alright, Scott, know this. You're a young man who is allowed to feel perfectly normal emotions and feelings and no matter what you feel, you can't tell yourself it's wrong because what you feel is right by you and you should always go for what you want, you deserve that much. That is what would be normal instead of torturing yourself sick with an unnecessarily clouded conscience."

He looked up again at my face, fiddling with my pillow linens, and his eyes did not leave mine underneath their ruby quartz and I was caught off guard by the intensity of his silent stare.

I muttered after a few moments, "Aren't you going to say anything?"  
He replied, "I don't need to."

Then turning back to the t.v. screen he cleared his throat and nodded, "I mean, yeah, I guess you're, um right."

I looked at him for a while, he retreated now, back into his stoic face and closed off and controlled aloofness.

What could I have said wrong? What did I do? He suddenly seemed to not want to be talking with me anymore.

Maybe I should have been more sensitive? What the hell did I do for him to close off so suddenly?  
Was I stepping out of line? Is my old aged advice not valid anymore to his generation?

Scott left quietly in the morning, unfortunately passing by Emma Frost who was of course stepping out of the bathroom after a shower in nothing but her underwear and a skimpy short bathrobe that covered nothing.

She looked to my door and at me standing in the hallway with my toothbrush, my tangled hair an at Scott in his rumpled clothes, holding his shoes and leaving my door. She gave a slow shake of her head and in a dangerously soft tsk tsk from her tongue, she gave Scott a sideways look with lingering and blazing blue eyes and said snidely, "Seems like the teacher's pet is serving his duty to even the old school marms."

He protested with startled eyes for a second, but then feeling a telepathic push from me, he left to his room without a word.

As for me, I closed the door before Frost could get her word in, knowing it would ruin my morning.

* * *

The blonde in a smart but short white suit sneered at me from behind Charles who was meeting with me to clear up the debacles of last night with Scott and everything. Emma had made sure to emphasize how she had seen him leaving my room in a compromising and highly illegal and unsuitable situation with a questionable hand injury.

I rolled my eyes openly at the atrocious young woman. What a dirty hypocrite.

After clearing up the misunderstandings, I held my ground in front of Charles who trusted Scott and I and shoved it back in the blonde's face.

I retorted without batting an eye, "Emma might not exactly understand how appropriate and wholesome student-teacher relationships are supposed to work and maybe she misinterpreted out of her own subconscious desires, seeing what she wanted when it was not really implied. She doesn't understand the bond Scott and I share, which is special but for purely wholesome reasons, which she must not be able to grasp if this is such an issue."

Emma glared at me now from behind Charles' bald head, and he hastily and calmly cut in, before a full on passive aggressive A bomb dropped.

I triumphantly trooped back to the downstairs medical lab to inspect Scott's scans more closely and begin fixing his hand up.

I was the victor this time and that tart Emma Frost isn't so smart now, is she.

It was alright, being there for Scott and even if he did see me as an old reliable hag, I was happy to be there for him in ways that Emma Frost wasn't, and I decided I was better off than her even if she went where others would not dare. And for the first time in a while I thought of him with a fondness and love and affection that was not tainted with the stigmas of lust and desire, but merely me being okay as his confidante friend or teacher.

Maybe I am cured of my serious case of boy-o-phelia-titus.

It was just a stupid quarter-life crisis phase I should never have taken seriously.

Good Jean!

My ego pats itself on the back.

I busy myself with medical equipment and lab tests, humming to myself.

Echoes of rushed steps enter the facility and Scott rushes in, a whirlwind mess and he quickly comes in across from me at the X-Ray table lighting up his scans, and plants his hands down firmly on the glowing surface. His speech is jumbled and breathless, "I came as fast as I could! I saw you leaving the Professor's office, I had to come find you, I have to, they can't fire you, this school would be nothing without you, I would be nothing without you here to keep me sane. I'm going to go up there and confess everything, tell the truth and more so you can't be in trouble. I don't care what happens to me anymore. Ms. Frost said you'd be gone for good."

I jumped back a little at his sudden and abrupt entrance, nearly slicing the specimen I had on the side at a separate tray.

I try to get my words together as I react in shock, "Calm down, Scott. It's all alright, shh just breathe. It was fine, we didn't even do anything, Emma just saw something and made it into something more, but nothing happened! There's nothing to be guilty about."

He said astutely, resolutely, with conviction behind his solemn and serious eyebrows, matter-of-fact, "Oh, but there should have been. I mean, I wish something had happened, I-I wanted to, I wanted to kiss you so badly last night, and I had the chance to almost, but I didn't and I should have. I wish I had!"

He stared grimly into my eyes and my expression changed into confused and utterly taken aback.

I could not believe what I was hearing, it was all too abrupt, too fast, too unreal.

He rambled on, thundering almost, "I don't care anymore! I'm not going to hide what I want or feel anymore, there's no point it's hurting everyone else, and I know it's over with Kitty, it was never meant to be with us, I can never be the kind of boyfriend she would need, not truly anyway with her knowing every part of me. I'm just not that person, I've been through too much messed up stuff to be on the same level as anyone. I'm me and I have my flaws and all that but I don't care, I realized I can't hide it anymore, it hurts so much just to look at the person you've been in love with since you were 15 and not be able to shout it out loud. Especially when all they think of you is the screwed up kid brother at most. But I'm over that too, whatever you think of me I'll respect, and keep my distance, but right now, I'm telling you, Miss. Jean. Grey. I love you-I've loved you for a very long time and I know you're thinking a little boy like me doesn't know anything about love, but I felt it for you before I even knew what to call it."

He gave me one last desperate and exhausted look, that of a crazed man twice his age, "I'm done hiding it, I can't hold back any longer."

His soft brown bangs fell over his glasses in a wild and hysterical gesture.

There was a sheen of sweat glossing his face, like he had run in with a heart thumping hot unadulterated love, a feeling only someone with more than his lifetime's worth of experience would know.

Finally seeing that his storm had subsided and he was looking to me for an answer with a heaving and aching chest, shoulders hunched over.

I regained my composure and opened my mouth unsurely, "Er, Sco-ah..-!"

Those young dreamy sensuous and manly lips came colliding against my unsuspecting mouth, capturing them in a kiss so heated and instant I had no way of defending myself against it.

He gripped my shoulders tightly in a firm way that I looooooved.

Oh no, bad Jean...

I hiccuped in a large gulpful of air when he released me, my head spinning lightly, seeing stars from the time he took my breath away, and my entire body had a pleasant warm numbing sensation that happens when your brains is deprived of oxygen and brain cells are popping.

I stepped back a small step from his panting and broad chest which was now at my eye-level, god he has grown. So tall...So...mmmm...

I took in ragged breaths and without looking up at him, I looked to my feet and uttered frantically, "Nuh-uh. No, we can't-this cannot happen. It's not happening, it's not-."

I felt myself hurtle my body against his strong and tall form again, shamefully loving his arms instantly around me, embracing me around the torso so tightly against him, I threw my arms about him with reckless abandon, squeezing his shoulders and neck, forgetting that I was a 20-something med-student and teacher, not a 17 year-old harlot schoolgirl in some romance novel.

* * *

**A.N.: I had to stop there, I just couldn't go on any longer for this chapter but I'll think of what has to come next! But things are definitely gonna be weird now! I know Scott's reactions might have seemed a bit extreme for him, but he is too controlled that all of that seems justified because the guy's gotta explode sometime, especially when faced with jealousy and hurt, and his alpha male complexes. And he is a good guy at heart and like the stereotyped stiffy Scott, he does have to have his principles and high chivalrous morals so of course someone like him wouldn't get over every girl easily without dwelling a bit, or else he'd just be heartless or a sleaze. Hope you lovely readers review! XOXO**


	8. MondaysEnough Said

**AN:**

**Soul 93: HI Soul93! Sorry this update took so long. & for how short it's gonna be... : ( I'm just adding a filler chapter for now. Thanks for your honest review! & for reassuring me about Scott's portrayal : ) **

**Supabec: THANK YOU! Stay great!**

**Guest: Yay! THanks Guest!**

* * *

**Mondays...Enough Said**

* * *

My heart is pounding, I try to drown out any thoughts from the students, I don't need any extra voices in my head to make me extra jumpy today.

That coffee definitely was not a good idea, I think as I look down my empty mug before setting it back on my desk with trembling hands.

I can feel their eyes boring expectantly at me as I stand in front of the class,feet rooted to the floor.

I feel a wave I recognize as a panic attack. Oh no. This really isn't the time.

It seems that my brain has chosen today to malfunction, and the caffeine hitting my blood stream definitely does not help.

I exhale.

Alison, sitting in front of the class stares at me and blows some hair out of her face.

Okay, here goes.

I open my mouth.

I'm about to start my lessons as normally as possible.

1...2...3...

"Herrgghhhhhh..."

Bobby's childish blue eyes pop out towards me.

He snickers, "What?"

This incites a few laughs here and there in the classroom.

What, the f-?!  
WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?

Omygosh. I am in 6th grade again and Sandy Parkinson is pointing out my lack of development in the chest area, while proudly touting her own trainer bra'd chest to my then crush, Tate Hickes, who is laughing at me, and who actually did not grow an inch since his growth spurt in the sixth grade. He was shorter than me by the end of the year.

My face is boiling, and I can feel the crimson burn, as I try to stutter through my book report presentation.

Except now I am a teacher who should at least know how to begin class.

But my cheeks are just as hot.

Now that I think about it, maybe Sandy had it in for me since I used to point out that her last name was named after a disease that the Back to the Future guy has. It was not my fault she had an unfortunately coincided last name...But it was my fault that I said anything mean about it back then in grade school.

Oh hindsight, what a blessing that comes with age...Not.

I try to nervously laugh it off, "Hehh...uhhrrrmm..."

It's not Tate Hickes sitting in the class staring at me now, it's Scott Summers.

I clear my throat and try again..Let's hope my brain doesn't decide to spazz out.

I shift my bra around a little, feeling a little better, knowing the affirmation of my now matured chest area.

"Good morning class, how was everybody's weekends?..."

After that I am normal and I go into my teaching mode.

Scott has his cheek in his palm with his elbow resting on the desk, he catches my eye while I'm discussing a book we are reading.

I try not to give anything away and continue without a break in my lesson.

He smiles at me.

What is wrong with him? Does he not understand what happened? What we did? And how major that is?!

How is he so indiscreet and nonchalant about things?! Why is he smiling?!

I shoot out to him in telepathy, _"Turn that smile upside down, buddy."_

I keep talking out loud, and he furrows his brow at me a little and thinks, _"Why should I?"_

_"Because you're crazy and you should turn it down a notch."_

He thinks, _"Relax, if you keep acting so anxious, you'll make things worse."_

_'Why are you smiling at me."_

_"I don't know, it's just my way of saying hi. And my teacher's hot. I'm happy to look at you, makes the lesson go by, if I just zone out the talking.'_

I can tell he is making a joke. Still._ "Hey, shut it mister. And you say that to all your teachers. What of Emma Frost?"_

He wriggles uncomfortably in his chair and breaks eye contact with me, looking down at the book on his desk.

"Gotcha", I hiss. Out loud. In the middle of class as I was saying something about story structure.

It must have sounded something like this.

"Once you identified the theme, were you able to identi-Gotcha...!"

Ohmygosh. The hammer is nailing down on me, pushing me deeper down the ground.

Bobby snorts out loud, and right next to him, Sam politely tries to smother his laugh with a hand.

Rogue gives me a confused expression like I've lost my mind AND grown spider legs.

Tabby whispers, "What the hell?"

In the front, Alison grabs her seat partner, Scott's arm and bursts into giggles, unable to handle how funny the situation is.

I continue, "uh...um, identify with the character's journey and growth...?"

I cough and laugh a little, "Sorry class, seems I've got a frog in my throat today."

Bobby puts his hand over his mouth and shouts out, "A big one!"

All the students burst out laughing.

Scott just looks at me with quirked brows, and thinks,_ "Smooth...Anyway, about Ms. Frost...I'm not talking to her right now, and oh yeah, I have some absent forms you need to sign for me to skip her class."_

_'What?! Okay, Scott, this needs to end now. I can't see you anymore. Something so forbidden and personal like this should not have to affect your attendance, Scott! Come on, Scott you never miss class. Why start now."_

_"Because it's weird? She always makes gooey eyes at me in front of class and it's well...unsettling. I don't want to be with her. Now that I know it for sure I can tell her and not fall for her advances."_

"_First of all, you shouldn't even ever have been with her, just like you cannot be with me. I should not be condoning this."_

__He gives me a look and then hangs up.

I go the rest of the class avoiding looking at him.

In my next class, the younger kids sit back in their chairs and unzip their backpacks.

I begin their class without skipping a beat.

As I sit down to grade their quizzes and leave them to work on homework, I can hear Alison, who had to double book on English credits so she doesn't have to take a summer course, chattering away to Kitty.

"So...how are things with the Russian?"  
Kitty coyly smiles, "He has a name you know. It's Piotr."

Alison yawns and flips her hand, "Too hard to say."

Kitty giggles. "Things are good, he's really into taking things really slow. He feels bad because he's older."

Alison pouts, "Why? Doesn't he know you dated an older guy before?"

Kitty shrugs, "I don't know, maybe it's just different in his country, and I can't even talk about the other guy that much to him without him getting upset."

"Speaking of...your ex...Um, since you're so happy and moved on now...What would you say to a friend going out with him?"

The naive girl Kitty can be, says, "Who? Do you mean Betsy? She's been his friend for a while...but I don't know if it's like that."

Looking exasperatedly at Kitty, Alison spells out, "I mean your friend, Kitty."

"Huh?"

Alison practically belts out, "CAN I GO OUT WITH SCOTT?!"


	9. Normal for Mutants

**AN:**

**Supabec: Thank you for reviewing and still keeping up with this story! Glad to hear from ya.**

**TheWatcher019: Hahahhh that's right, I like how you put it. Summersmeister. Thanks for your review, you rule!**

* * *

**Normal for Mutants**

* * *

A throbbing, strong pressure is building up behind my eyelids.

I shut my eyes for a second, and all I can see is a blinding, flashing red that I bet could visually cause epilepsy.

"Hey Scott!"

My brain feels like its all in fissures. I blink my eyes open, regretting when a sharp stabbing sensation followed by stinging enters them. It takes a moment for them to adjust to the bright light of the hallway I'm walking down, done with my day of classes.

A fuchsia haired pixie of a girl is standing before me, she is wearing a black headband in her long wavy hair today.

"Megan! Hey. What can I do for you?"

She eagerly sings out in her pleasant Welsh accent, "I have a secret for you! Well, it's no secret now, but I heard that a certain teen sensation is smitten with you!" Her dragonfly-like wings twitch excitedly.

"Smitten, really?" I ask not out of curiosity, but out of her choice of words.

Megan nods her pretty little head up and down.

I dryly ask, "Is it Justin Bieber?"

She laughs out loud, her pointed ears wiggling, and hits me on the chest. "Oh, Scott, you do have a sense of humor! Don't you want to know who before its published in the teen pop tabloids?!"

I shrug and imitate the Finding Nemo quote, "Look you're really cute, but I can't understand what you're saying!"

She blushes suddenly and then says, "Oh. Well, thanks. It's Dazzler."  
I stop and hitch my backpack straps up.

"Alison Blaire?"

Pixie nods again and looks at me for a reaction. I push my red sunglasses up my nose and ponder, "We don't really talk that much. Are you sure she likes me?"

Megan scoffs, "I am her best friend, and she told me so..."

I ask, "Why?"

Megan giggles, "Why don't you ask her?! When you ask her out?!"

I widen my eyes, "I'm supposed to ask her out?"

"Well duh! Someone as posh as her? Why would you pass up on that."

Why would I pass up on that.

There's Jean. Plus the fact that I haven't even thought about Alison really, she's just kind of there, a part of the team. She was just one of Kitty's friends I never paid attention to.

I never really talk with her other than in class when she socializes with everyone in her radius, but even then I wouldn't say I participate that often.

Megan leaves me to my thoughts, skipping off to get her mail.

I go down to the garage and pull my car out.

Hosing down the sides, I grab a sponge and squeeze water out of it, onto my windows.

I hear the sound of a basketball being bounced on concrete.

Bobby walks up behind me and bounces the basketball onto the ground and then off my bent over back. Sam and Kurt are with him.

He breezily says, "Yo Scott! Guess what I heard!"

I clench my teeth and look up, "An ice sculptor is looking for his mannequin."

He scratches his head, "Say what?"

I shake my hair out of my eyes, "Nothing, man, what's up."

He gives me two thumbs up and declares, "Ali Blaire wants some of your Summers Lovin'!"

I snort at his poor pun reference of the hit 50's-60's jukebox song from the 80's movie 'Grease'.

He won't quit, "She wants your junk!"

I turn my hose on him, and he shouts at me, dripping from head to toe, "Cut it out! You should be jumping out of your socks. She's a hottie."

Kurt joins in, "Jah, man! And a yuge star! 'Ow many singers ever 'ave crushes on us?"

"Never. Ali Blaire is picky," Sam joins in.

I laugh, "Do you guys seriously see her with me? Can you imagine me and her?"

Sam agrees, "You have a point..It's quite random. An' she is a wild child."

Bobby points out, "You'd be a good looking pair!"

I throw my sponge at him.

* * *

There's someone I've been dying to see all day.

I knock on her office door.

"Yes, come in!"

I quickly shut the door behind me and jog up to her desk, slamming my hands down on its surface.

Jean puts some papers away and looks at me with an authoritative glance.

She's not in a talky mood today.

"Scott, have you heard the interesting rumor going around?"  
I ask, "About us?"

She glares daggers at me, "No, concerning you and another student."

I groan.

"I overheard Alison saying she's into you."

I grin at her, "So, am I in trouble or something?"

She fumbles and exclaims, "Oh, my, no! Of course not. I just thought you should know...And I think you should go after her. I think you'd make a cute and age-appropriate couple. You do need to be with someone your own age, its just healthy."

"What, and you're not healthy for me?"

She sighs and rubs her temples, "No, I don't want to get into this, you know perfectly well what is wrong."

"Don't give me that crap, Jean."

"It's Ms. Grey to you now. That's how it should be. You and I are very close. So I'm sorry I took advantage of that, and of your youth... But you're like my little brother, we have a bond like between brothers and sisters. I confused you and was a bad influence. We can still be close, just not like that... You need a girl and I need a man... Maybe when some time has passed and you're legal, we can see where we're at... But I shouldn't even say that. I care for you as a sibling would."

I hang my head and sigh, "I guess I should have expected this. Okay, Jean. But just you wait, when I'm all grown up I'll come after you."

She laughs fondly and nods.

* * *

We're running through the jungle, and a machine tripod with lasers and guns creeps out, aiming a bright ray at my chest.

I leap back, flipping in the air, out of the way as its beam comes crashing to where I was just standing. It fires up again and scans the entire jungle with its laser beam.

I hit my visor and feel the scarlet energy bursting from my eyes.

It disables the tripod, but then something comes swinging out of a tree, from a vine.

It happens to be a suited up Dazzler who twists flexibly through the air, showing off her skin tight body suit with an electric shock of light emitting from her body.

She does a series of back flips and then lands on the branch of one of the looming trees.

After a second, it snaps and sends her falling about 90 feet down. She startles, with a scream.

I grit my teeth and charge forward, holding my arms out.

I bend my knees slightly, bracing myself and she lands straight in my arms, with a hard impact.

She leans her head back in a daze, her long electric blonde hair tumbling over my bicep, and throws her arms around my neck and cries out with a large dazzling smile, "My savior! You caught me!"

I let her down, making her stand up.

I glare at her through my visor and ask, "What were you thinking?! What were you even trying to do? Hurt yourself? You would've seriously injured yourself or someone else! You would never pull a stunt like that on a real mission, so you should never do something like that in this DR stimulation!"

I rip my tight black hood mask off my head and feel the refreshing air conditioned air blowing through my freed, rumpled hair and head, which is too hot now.

I'm furious.

The stimulation shuts off and we are now standing in a large metallic room with a very high ceiling.

Julian runs forward in a burst of unnatural speed, "She was just showing off, typical Ali!" He's trying to make light of the situation, playing it off as a joke.

Pixie flies over and sticks up for her, "She didn't mean any harm!"

"Ali, hit the showers, you're suspended from practice. I'll come talk to you later." I can barely refrain from shouting. When someone tests my patience and does not take these practices seriously, it can get dangerous.

She tears her blue mask off and juts out a lower lip, stalking past everyone to go to the locker rooms.

* * *

After a long hot shower, I start to get ready for dinner after training.

I absentmindedly run a comb back on my wet hair, and put on a pair of jeans.

Skimming through my closet, I take out a dark gray collared polo shirt and put it on.

Noticing a smudge on my ruby shades, I shut my eyes and then take them off, rubbing them against my shirt until they're spotless and polished.

Sliding them back into place, I open my eyes and feel the start up of ruby energy filling out the space underneath the lenses.

There's someone sitting on my bed.

A girl with static blonde hair and black eyeliner on electric blue eyes, wearing a high collared jacket over a yellow tank top and torn jeans.

I blurt out, "Fuck, Ali! Have you been here this whole time?"

She looks smug, "Yup. You said you were gonna come by and talk to me and when you didn't, I decided to come to you first."

There's honestly no privacy in this 65 acre estate.

I clasp my titanium watch on my wrist and get down to it, "Alright, your display today at the DR was unacceptable, and you're going to get two weeks worth of detention with Logan, and you will be cleaning out the supply closet."

"Do your eyes-or no, your head ever get like, blue balls if they can't let the optic blasts out for a while? You know...like how bal-" Alison swings her feet on my bed.

Oh no. I cut in, "I know! I know, stop. And...um, not really. Balls...and eyeballs aren't the same thing. And mutations and -ahem, aren't the same thing." How did I get stuck with a girl on my bed, explaining the difference between balls and eyeballs.

She says evenly, "I saw you squeeze your eyes shut and rub them yesterday after class."

I shrug, "I get head aches and sore eyes sometimes, I'd say with mutant powers that's kind of common. But, back to the point, you really endangered us today."

She scrunches her nose and then says sincerely, "I know, I'm sorry Scott. I don't know what I was thinking, I was just having fun, but it got out of hand... If you hadn't been there to catch my ass, I don't know what could have happened. Thank you for being there for me, and I'm so sorry for ruining your drill."

She sadly looks into my glasses and I hesitate a little, "Well, now, I didn't mean to come off so harsh... I was just irritated all day." I can't be mean to girls, it's just impossible. Has anyone ever been able to look into a girl's eyes and stay mad? It's like yelling at a baby animal for accidentally tearing up your shoes and looking into their huge shiny eyes.

Maybe just Logan, but he's always mad about everything.

Ali walks over to me and leans on my shoulder, "You should relax and loosen up. You need a break from being a leader. Doesn't it get boring and like uncomfortable with that stick up your-"

"Hey!" I warn dangerously.

There's a weird look on her face and in her eyes that I've never seen on her.

I'm about to ask if she's okay, but then she does the unexpected, and she has the nerve to make out with me!

I pull my head back and grunt, "Ali!"

She asks, "What's the problem? I'm trying to kiss you for saving me."

Oh yeah, no problem in that...because that's totally what everyone does right? If this were true, then fire fighters would be pimps. I think super stardom definitely affects brains.

So now there's this crazy girl in my room who insults me and then tries to kiss me. Why can't I just get one day of normalcy?

Whoa, I never noticed how much her smile ACTUALLY dazzles...Pretty lights...And her hair smells like flowers.

Oops, I just had a poor lapse in judgement... Man, Cyclops is not on his A game today.

She slyly mentions, "It's not like you don't know I have a thing for ya. It's been taking you forever to do something about it."

This girl is out of her mind. I repeat, disbelief dripping from my words, "You actually like me?" Then I try to calmly explain to her that the world doesn't always work that way in her favor, and that sometimes for completely unrelated and personal reasons, not every guy is going to return her affections just because she wants them to.

Then I throw in, "Also, I'm kind of not really over someone, so I'm not ready for anything with anyone else right now."

"If it's Kitty, she's over you and I asked her if I could get with you and she didn't mind." I'm not sure how to tell Alison that it's not Kitty I'm too worried about.

My memory goes back to what Jean had been telling me earlier...

I touch Ali's wrist to get her attention. Sparks fly, and I feel a somewhat painful, eye-watering shock.

"I just don't really know you that well. I'd like to get to know you though."

She cheers, "Really? Okay, you better be free this weekend. I have to attend a charity event after a concert, and you're going to be my escort."

I sigh, "It's...a date." This is what Jean meant right? Go out on dates with girls my own age, and try to be more normal... Except I don't think a red carpet event with a pop star counts as a normal first date.


End file.
